#and damien going ‘but you could just say you’re sorry. that’s always an option.’

[asterdeer]

grabs you by the shoulders. imagine you’re a space priest. and the prophet from centuries and centuries ago who gave you hope and belief for a better future in place of your childhood’s yawning abyss of despair and insignificance is still alive 900 years later because he rejected everything he ever said and became undead to keep from dying because he was afraid. and you meet him and he’s a murderous vampiric demon creature who you have to put up with because of plot reasons but every time he kills or hurts someone it gets to you. and it gets to you and gets to you and gets to you until you have to watch him do it in front of you and you think “okay fuck this, not anymore” and you pray like you’ve never prayed before. and god answers. the space god answers your prayer personally and gives you peace and stops the undead ex-prophet and the undead ex-prophet also sees god but it’s not peace he gets. and he tells you that he’s been locked away from the god he envisioned, he’s done too much evil and he doesn’t regret it enough because he’s more afraid to die than he’s sorry that he sold his soul. repentance is impossible.

and you look at this devastated wet rag of a demonic vampiric soulless creature and think “i could fix him.”

[solelifauna]

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 1)

TW: Mentions/allusions to cannibalism, death, and violence.

Three years had passed since that fateful day and your life had only gotten more miserable. Whatever hopes you had for being a part of a family were thwarted as soon as you stepped foot in the household. Bruce doesn't care about you, Dick was straight up mean, Jason (as the pack protector) was aggressive, Tim found you annoying, and Damien simply loathed your existence and would join Dick with his cruelty.

Both Stephanie and Barbara were civil with you, but neither really cared about what you did. Cassandra was nice, sometimes signing to you and giving you scented clothing, but she still didn't really go out of her way to engage with you. The only person who you felt truly cared about you was Alfred.

The first two years you tried your hardest to fit in and get the others to like you. You did whatever they wanted, made sure to learn their interests so you could talk to them, never complained, and made sure to respect the pack's boundaries.

You hoped that eventually, you’d all move past this hurdle and soon you would get along and be allowed in the pack den and other pack activities. Unfortunately, you realized that you would never be considered part of the family or the pack. Which as heartbreaking as it was, was the least of your worries.

You see, there was an ancient custom in werewolf culture concerning new pack members and pack initiation. When a new werewolf is introduced to a pack and their territory, the new werewolf has a certain amount of time to be accepted into the pack; if they’re not, well, they're killed and eaten. 

Yeah… quite terrifying and barbaric if you think about it, but mostly only the old lineages still continue this practice. Which is why you’re absolutely fucked. See, typically when children come to a pack they get accepted immediately, pups were (usually) considered precious.

In your case, being a half-blood severely reduced your chances and well, you guessed the Wayne family just didn't like you. Which sucks because you only have until your 18th birthday to get them to accept you, and considering your 16th birthday was coming up, your time was coming to a close. 

Or, you could always just run away. Hey! It was an option, one that you weren't sure the Bats would even let happen. Still it was worth a try. Which leads to your current situation in Bruce's office; you were trying to cut your losses a little early.

~~~~~~

“Look, I just feel as though this is the best course of action for your pack’s and my own safety.” Came your exasperated and desperate voice.

“Safety?” Bruce questions, causally flipping through some Wayne Industries documents, as if he doesn't know exactly what you're talking about.

“Considering Damian’s tried to kill me five times, two of his attempts almost being successful, and Jason's pit aggression that has him ready to rip my throat out, you can see why someone would feel unsafe.” You state, voice raising slightly in pitch.

He hummed noncommittally, his eyes still focusing on whatever paperwork he was going over.

“I'll think about it.” He replies, still disinterested.

“There’s nothing to think about! I should be allowed to leave if I want to, and if anything I'll finally be out of your pack's way.” You say, finally letting your frustration show through.

Why couldn't he just let you leave? Did he seriously want to keep you here just to kill– sorry, eat you in another two years?

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from his work, his blue eyes meeting yours. He was unimpressed, you could tell that much at least, coupled with a dark look of simmering anger.

Okay, so maybe you should tone it down a notch.

“Come on, I'm not an idiot. I know me being here is simply a public formality, good fluff bits for the press y'know. But I'm not part of your family, and I'm certainly not part of your pack. You and the others have made that very clear. So please, allow me to do us both a favor and get out of your way.” You add.

“Where would you go?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

“Where would you go?” Bruce repeats again.

“That–that is honestly none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? Aren't I entitled to know where my kid is?”

“No, you’re not. Sure you're biologically considered my father, but we all know I'm not really considered your kid.”

“Is that what you think?” He questions.

“Am I supposed to think any differently?”

“You carry the Wayne surname do you not?”

“I do.”

“Then you belong to the Waynes. To me. Which means that I decide what happens to you.”

There was the familiar darkness that you saw pooling in Bruce’s eyes, the type that left the Joker a tortured mess, the type that disemboweled Ra’s Al Ghul, the type of darkness that reminded you that Batman doesn’t kill. Oh no, he maims and tortures instead.

You unconsciously take a careful step back. 

Bruce’s stare felt like ice, and his words hung in the air, thick and heavy with an authority that was absolute. You wanted to argue, to say something, but every instinct in your body screamed for caution. There was a darkness in his gaze that you had seen glimpses of before, but never directed at you, and now it was there, unblinking, cutting through any hope you’d harbored for mercy or understanding.

Your heart hammered, yet you forced yourself to stand straighter, swallowing down the instinctive fear. 

“With all due respect,” you began, your voice smaller than you intended but steady, “staying here for another two years just for you all to—to follow through with that—custom, doesn’t seem fair.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften, but his posture shifted slightly, his gaze piercing through you like he could see every thought you tried to hide. 

“Belonging is earned. It isn’t granted because of blood,” he stated coldly. “If you truly wish to belong somewhere, you work for it.”

“I’ve tried,” you said, voice thick with frustration. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve followed your rules, I tried with everyone, and stayed out of everyone’s way. But nothing I do is good enough.”

“You assume that acceptance is given on your terms,” he replied, voice as controlled as ever. “Pack structure doesn’t bend to anyone’s whims. Least of all a half-blood who hasn’t proven their loyalty.”

The words stung, tearing open a wound that you thought had scarred over. You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp ache of your own nails digging into your palms. “And what exactly does proving myself look like here? Surviving Damian’s attacks? Letting Jason rip me apart every chance he gets?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, cutting through any retort you’d planned.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to take another step back from his desk. Challenging him wouldn’t help. He’d already decided where you stood, and nothing you said would change that. Maybe it was better to save your energy, conserve your strength for the day you’d finally slip away.

“Understood,” you said, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

 But you’d still leave when the time comes.

Bruce’s gaze hardened, like he knew what you were thinking. “Your place is here until I decide otherwise,” he said, a finality in his tone that told you any further argument would only worsen things.

He dismissed you with a look, returning to his papers as if the conversation were over, as if you were no longer there. Every step you took out of the office felt heavier, like the manor itself was holding you down, binding you to this place that was never truly a home.

As you closed the door behind you, the cold emptiness of the hallway wrapped around you, and you knew then—you were on your own. If you were to survive this, it would be on your own terms.

It's like clockwork when Alfred calls you down for dinner. The same time, the same routine.

You show  up to dinner, hands still shaking and mind still reeling from your disturbingly cryptic conversation with Bruce. But, never mind that you’d just eat quietly and leave like you always do. You moved to your normal seat only to find that all the chairs near the end of the table had disappeared. What the actual fuck. Was this some type of powerplay? Something to imply that you didn’t even have a seat at their table anymore? 

You mean, you wouldn't mind eating in the safety and comfort of your own room. With an exasperated sigh, which had a couple of heads turn their attention to you, you grabbed an empty plate and started loading it up with food. You were about to head back to your room when you heard an outraged growl from behind you.

The kind of growl that had you tensing, ready to submit and roll onto your back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jason growled out from behind you.

You freeze.

“To my room?” You responded meekly, curling in on yourself as much as you could.

“And pray tell, why do you think that’d be acceptable?”

“Uh–um, ‘cause my seats’ gone?”

Jason only smirked, the feral kind that almost always promised pain to his enemies.

“Oh, but your chair isn't gone, it's right here.” Jason says pointing to a chair right near the head of the table.

You blanked. That's not right. Only pack was allowed that close to the head of the table, where Bruce sat, where the pack leader sat.

“B-But, I can’t–”

“Did that sound like a suggestion?”

You shook your head no, swallowing down a whimper that almost escaped your lungs.

“Then sit your ass down,” Jason growled.

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Immediately you shakily sat down in your new seat, on the left side of Bruce’s seat at the head of the table with Jason sitting at your left shoulder and Dick across from you. Not good, not good at all. You could feel the acidic, green gaze of Jason burning into the side of your face whilst Dick languidly sipped his wine, a sickeningly sweet smile (with way too many teeth to be considered anything but malicious), plastered on his face as he stared at the new seating chart. You let out a shaky breath, trying to get your heart rate back to normal; you were so gonna die tonight.

Thankfully, Bruce arrived and sat himself in his seat at the head of the table; right next to you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on getting air in your lungs and slowing your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Bruce shot a knowing stare at the rest of the table. As much as you tried to conceal it, they could all hear your rapidly fluttering heartbeat and your poorly hidden breathing. Tim and Jason both watched you amused; you looked so darn pathetic, sitting there trembling like a leaf. 

You glanced down at your plate, picking at the food without really tasting it, hoping that staying silent would help you melt into the background.

Bruce, however, remained still and silent, his presence looming over you, radiating the authority that seemed to keep everyone else in check. But even that felt like a facade; the way his gaze lingered on you for a split second too long told you he was watching closely, assessing.

You forced yourself to take a bite, trying to steady your hands enough to appear somewhat composed. But the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to echo in your ears, loud and unrelenting, as if amplifying the anxiety that twisted in your gut. They could hear it too; you knew that much from the way Jason’s smirk deepened, from the way Tim’s lips twitched with barely-contained laughter.

As the dinner dragged on, every clink of a fork, every quiet murmur, felt like it was directed at you. The food turned to ash in your mouth, each bite only reminding you of the eyes trained on you, dissecting you with every chew and every breath.

The rest of the dinner passed in strained silence, every second an endurance test as you forced yourself to stay seated, to keep your head down. When Bruce finally pushed his chair back and dismissed everyone, the wave of relief was almost enough to make you lightheaded. Quick as a whip, you practically ran up the stairs towards the safety and solace of your room.

When you make it, the locks on your door are immediately fastened (not that it would do much if anyone wanted to actually force their way in). You exhale in relief as you try to collect your thoughts. Fuck, everything was going to shit; the worst part being you had school tomorrow (which thankfully you did not go to Gotham Prep; you'd kill yourself if you did). You groaned at the thought, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes to relieve the ache shooting through them.

Looks like another night of shitty sleep.

Taglist!!: @lostsomewhereinthegarden, @the-rouge-robin, @confused-they

[akalei]

Today’s The Day

I’m not dead and neither is this AU! Thank you all so much for the love and as always I hope you enjoy and please feel free to send me asks for more info :)

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Today was THE day and Marinette was a complete mess. She barely slept but still managed to miss her alarm. While getting dressed she not only banged her knee on her desk but also fell down the stairs. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a complete and utter mess and she was only a bystander. 

“Marinette, why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast?” her mother asked, looking at her daughter, concerned as she got up from the ground. 

Marinette bit her lip as she glanced over at the empty bowl and plate of croissants on the table, “I don’t know Mom,” she placed a hand on her stomach already filled with knots, “I’m too nervous to eat.”

Sabine shook her head, “I know you’re worried about Adrien but there’s nothing more you can do to help him,” she reached out and kissed Marinette’s forehead, “just have faith and eat.” 

Marinette raised an eyebrow, it wasn’t like she didn’t have faith in Adrien or his Justice League approved lawyers, she just doesn’t trust Gabriel Agreste to keep things lawful. 

Thankfully she was interrupted by a knock on the door, “sit down Sweetheart, I’ll get it,” her mother said as she lightly patted Marinette on the shoulder. Marinette did as she was told but didn’t touch the croissants. 

“Marinette, Sweetheart it’s your friends from your club!” Sabine called out. Confused Marinette turned around to face the entryway to see Dick, M’gann, and Connor in her house. 

“Today’s the day,” Dick said with a smile, “are you ready?” 

All Marinette could do was just stare at him, it even took her a minute to realize her mouth was open, “what are you guys doing here?”

“We came because we were worried about you,” a voice said, belonging to a young man with forest green eyes who was standing apart from the rest of her friends. 

“D-Damien?” Marinette squeaked, surprised to see him here. The boy didn’t give more than a shrug in response, his attention on anywhere but her. 

“Are you done with breakfast Mari?” M’gann asked glancing at her empty plate, “because all of us were planning on watching the broadcast together in our hotel room,” 

Marinette was still in shock, unable to form a complete sentence. Why in the world would they be here? It wasn’t their problem-

“We came because we’re friends,” Marinette glanced over at Connor, who always seemed to answer her unsaid questions, “we wanted to support you, both of you.” 

Marinette felt the tension leave her shoulders, and she smiled, “Thank you,” she stood up and tugged her bag over her shoulder, ready to go,  “I mean it.” 

 * * *

Marinette was overwhelmed, first by the size of Dick’s hotel room, and then by how many of her friends came to show their support. Perhaps she and Adrien weren’t as much of outsiders as they believed they were in the Justice League. 

As soon as the broadcast started Marinette had plopped herself on the edge of one of the seats within the hotel room. She sat tall and rigid, her nerves as clear as day to Damien who had settled in the seat next to her. Damien didn’t pay much attention to the TV screen, his eyes trained on Marinette and her ever-changing expressions. As the court case progressed, Marinette’s knee bounced in anticipation and she gnawed on her lower lip with nerves. Caught between concern and annoyance Damien placed his hand on her knee to cease its bouncing. 

Surprised, Marinette tore her gaze away from the screen to look at him. Her face red with embarrassment, “Sorry,” she apologized, her lower lip still caught under her teeth. 

Damien grunted in response and left his land resting on top of her knee, keeping it from bouncing. Marinette quirked an eyebrow, unsure whether or not he was annoyed with her or just concerned in his own way. Soon the court broke for recess and the live broadcast switched to commercials. Without uttering a word, Damien pulled Marinette up by the hand and led them outside of the hotel room. 

“What’re you-?” Marinette started to ask but trailed off as Damien stopped in front of a vending machine. He angrily fed it some euros and punched buttons, after, the machine spat out a bag of chips.

“Here, I know you haven’t had anything to eat,” he thrust the bag of chips out to her, “and you’re beginning to stress me out.”

Marinette gently took the bag from him, “sorry and thank you,” she smiled at him. 

Damien wouldn’t meet her eyes, “no problem,” he leaned back against the vending machine, “anyways who is this guy to make you this worried?” he looked back at her almost reluctantly, “is he your boyfriend?”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she let out a small laugh, “no, no we’re not dating,” she paused to figure out how to phrase their relationship, “he’s my partner, my person.” She opened the bag of chips and popped one into her mouth, “We met when we were 13 as civilians and had no idea that we were partners,”

Damien’s brow furrowed, “what do you mean you didn’t know?”

Marinette smiled, “just that, our master told us that we could never reveal our identities. That we could never trust anyone with that secret,” she shrugged, “and at the time we were so overwhelmed with everything going on we didn’t second guess the rule.” 

“Sometimes it’s easier not to trust others,” Damien said crossing his arms across his chest, “you’re safer only trusting yourself.” 

Marinette shook her head, “I disagree, when your fighting to protect others and risking your life,” she paused to catch Damien’s eye, “you don’t want to be alone, you want to have others supporting you and you have to be able to trust that they’ll have your back. And if that isn’t an option, you have to trust that they’ll make sure everyone else survives.”

There was a gravity to Marinette’s words that Damien wasn’t expecting. He knew that she was a hero, like his father, his brothers, like everyone in that hotel room but he didn’t realize how serious she was. She wasn’t a hero because it looked cool, she was a hero because she wanted to protect everyone even at the cost of her life. Uncomfortable with the sudden realization he changed the topic, “back to Adrien, how did the two of you go from not knowing anything to becoming partners that you’d risk everything for?”

Marinette huffed out a laugh, “we had to grow up,” she popped another chip into her mouth, “we learned what being Miraculous holders meant, that we were cosmically linked and the responsibility that we have to bear forced us to reevaluate what was important to us. And after what happened with the invasion, Adrien and I were done with secrets. If we were to be heroes we were going to do it our way, on our terms.”

“So what happened to land the two of you in this situation?” Damien asked, “I know bits and pieces from Tim and Dick but-” he trailed off.

Marinette folded her half-empty chip bag, “well, it’s a bit complicated. Adrien’s home situation was never the same after his mom died. His father pulled away from the public eye and Adrien was completely isolated in his own home. He was only allowed to go to school after some major convincing from our friend Chloe Bourgeois who is also the mayor’s daughter. And even then if he didn’t live up to his father’s expectations he was immediately confined back home. Long story short he was being abused and thought it was normal,” Marinette looked up from the chip bag, “and then we found out that his father is Hawkmoth,”

Damien’s eyes widened. 

“So to the public today is all about exposing Gabriel Agreste’s shitty parenting but for the League, the Team, for me it’s about ensuring that he’s safe.”  

Damien nodded, not knowing what else to say.  

Marinette just smiled as if sensing his unease, “We should get back, don’t want to miss the verdict.” 

Damien followed Marinette back to the hotel room. He watched her stare at the screen, hands wrinkling the chip bag. But his mind was elsewhere, when he first met the girl he thought he had her all figured out. It was in his training to observe and read people, to determine if they were threats or not. And Marinette seemed like an idealistic hero, just like the other kids he met through his father and brothers. Sidekicks who were training to be heroes because of a dream or because they somehow obtained powers. Kids who didn’t know the harsh reality of the world they live in, the reality that Damien had been trained and prepared for since his birth. He thought Marinette was one of those sidekicks, perhaps a little less idiotic but she was so kindhearted, so idealistic. But he was wrong, about many things. About Marinette’s strength, the reason why she’s a hero, and about her partner. Damien didn’t want to admit it but the little rich boy he had written off as a joke, as a poor excuse of a hero was actually a lot like him. 

“It’s over!” Marinette shouted and startled Damien. He looked up at the television screen to see Adrien with a look of relief on his face, and a scowl on Gabriel Agreste’s. The entire room erupted into a ruckus and suddenly, Marinette pressed a kiss against Damien’s cheek. Shocked, Damien lifted a hand, and lightly brushed his fingers against his cheek. He looked down to see Marinette with a big grin on her face, wondering what the hell had happened.

“Adrien won, we won!”

[d-ama-ien]

Take a Break

Summary: The District Attorney is sick, yet they drag themselves to work anyways. Damien convinces them to take a break, helping care for them after they agree to take the rest of the day off. 

Pairing: Mayor Attorney (Damien x the DA)

Warning: Some mentions of nausea and other cold symptoms

A fic for @fgfluidity 

Author note: It’s cold season y’all, take care of yourselves! Damien wants you to be health uwu

You know you're sick- yesterday your body felt tired, bone achingly tired, you weren't able to finish even half of the dinner you made yourself, and you passed out before the clock chimed 8, barely waking up to your alarm this morning. But, you're not allowed to be sick, not with the trial coming up, with all the work you need to do. So, you trudge through your morning routine, managing to make yourself look something like presentable, arriving at the office on time, as usual, smiling at the secretary like there wasn't a worry in the world. Just the short walk to your office had you exhausted, but fortunately, you could sit while doing your work, and then you'd be fine.

You were not fine. It didn't matter that the only thing you had been doing for the last hour was paperwork; you were exhausted, barely able to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Just another hour or so until lunch, then another 5 hours until you could go home, then another three days until the weekend, and then you could rest. For now, it was out of the question, and you page the secretary for some coffee before quickly changing your order to tea. Yeah, coffee wasn't the best idea with your stomach. Tea would have to do for the caffeine fix.

The tea didn't do much for your fatigue. It was warm, tasted nice, and it felt good to have something in your nearly empty stomach, but you managed to get through to lunchtime, at least. You sigh as the phone rings, not wanting to deal with a last-minute request for a lunch meeting or anything that would add to your workload, and accidentally let the phone ring through. Whoops.

It starts ringing again a moment later, and this time you force yourself to take the call.

"I'm sorry to bother you, DA. I know your lunch break just started, but the mayor has requested a meeting," You bite back a groan at the secretary's message, instead saying they could send the mayor in. You groan after hanging up, though- if it was anyone, literally anyone, else you could've said to claim you're busy and out of the office and that they could make an appointment for later. Yeah, that's not an option when it comes to the mayor.

Of course, the mayor isn't just the mayor; he's Damien, your dearest friend, and usually, you'd happily clear the day for him at the drop of a hat. Today wasn't the usual; you are sick and wanted to steal a quick nap during your lunch break so that you could push through the rest of the day. But, if Damien requests your presence, then your presence is given. There's a knock on the door then, and you prepare yourself before calling out, "Come in!"

Damien comes in, a warm smile on his face, though it falls slightly when he sees your face. He seems to know something is off, even though you had done your best to force a smile before he came in.

"Are you doing well, friend?" Damien asks, voice gentle with concern.

"Just a bit tired is all," you wave off his concern, gesturing for him to come in and sit. No reason to make him stand around; the cane only offers so much support after all.

"I'm sorry to pop in on you without warning. I realized how long it's been since we got to spend time together casually, and I know this is your usual lunchtime, so I figured we could go eat together," Damien sits on the edge of his seat, eyes trained on my face.

"That sounds lovely. Just let me grab my coat," you rise from your seat, having to pause and brace your weight on the desk when a wave of dizziness hits. Well, that's new. Damien is openly concerned now, standing and leaning on his cane as he puts a hesitant hand on your shoulder.

"Are you sure you're well? I wasn't going to say it, but you look awful," you figure you must look really bad for Damien to say something like that. He never says anything negative about your appearance, except for in university when he would be laughing about how terrible you'd look after a good party.

"I'm fine, really, just-"

"This is more than "just tired," you look like you're going to pass out!" Damien's grip leaves your shoulder, and he briefly rests the back of his hand on your forehead. You'd blush at that if your face wasn't already so hot. "You're burning up. What on Earth possessed you to come in today? Get your stuff; we're taking you home this instant,"

"Damien, I can't just leave in the middle of the day. I have work to do!" You protest, blushing as Damien levels you with a stern stare- the kind he uses when his staff acts up and needs to be reprimanded. You've always shuddered just witnessing it, but seeing it could never prepare you for being on the receiving end of it.

"You're just putting your health at risk by staying. How much work will you get done if you end up needing to go to the hospital?"

"Okay, Dames, it's a cold,"

"Colds can become serious if not properly dealt with. Gather your things now. You're taking today and tomorrow off,"

“Tomorrow?” He knows the case you have coming up, the work you have to do, and he thinks you're going to take a day and a half off?

"Tomorrow. Friend, your work will suffer if you aren't well. I know you have that case coming up, and doing this to yourself is just putting that at risk,"

You want to keep protesting, should keep protesting, but Damien is right. You and your work will only suffer if you don't nip this issue in the bud. So, with a deep sigh, you fetch your coat, obediently locking up the office and following Damien down the hall. He pauses to speak to the secretary, informing them you'll be out of the office for the remainder of today and all of tomorrow, on Damien's orders. You're glad Damien doesn't say the truth, that he's forcing you out of work because you're sick. After all, it would be rather embarrassing for the mayor to need to drag an ill district attorney home. Well, it was embarrassing, but only to you, as no one else knew about it.

Damien brought you to where his driver was waiting outside the building, quickly rattling your address off to the driver as you get settled. It isn't too far a drive, you live reasonably close to where you work after all, and soon you're sitting at your own kitchen table as Damien wanders through the kitchen, gradually collecting ingredients and cooking tools as he goes. He's taken off his jacket and vest, eventually rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he starts fusing with some of the ingredients he had gathered.

"Dames, what are you doing?" You ask, "You got me home, you don't have to stay," Damien looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, pausing for only a moment before continuing his quest.

"Friend, you were barely able to walk from the car to your table. There's no way I would just leave you here unattended. Would you even be able to cook for yourself?"

"You don't need to cook for me. I'm fine,"

"When's the last time you ate, then?"

"Dinner last night,"

"And did you actually eat a full meal?"

"Yes?" Damien pauses again, frowning at you, "Fine, no. I couldn't finish it,"

"You need to eat, so I'll cook for you," Damien sets a glass of water in front of you before going to the pot, starting to fill it with water and putting it on the stove.

"Drink that; with your fever, you'll need the hydration," he calls over his shoulder, ignoring your grumbling. The more stubborn part of you is a bit indignant at the treatment- you're an adult, a freaking district attorney, and Damien is instructing you on how to take care of yourself like you don't know any better. The more honest part of you is relishing in the attention because it's Damien taking care of you, sweetly looking out for your health and well being. You drink the water as you watch Damien work. He slowly added things to the pot, having dug up some veggies and herbs that you had nearly forgotten about, and adding those once they're cleaned and cut.

In a half-hour, there's a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you, Damien smiling warmly as he sits at the other side of the table with his own bowl.

"I had to improvise some of the ratios, so I hope it tastes alright," he says, sounding almost nervous. Is he worried you won't like it?

It's definitely one of the better soups you've had, not over seasoned but not bland like most foods made for an upset stomach are. You find yourself smiling as you take another spoonful.

"I didn't know you cooked," you say. The last time you had seen Damien cook was back in university- if that could be called cooking with the less than stellar results of most of his attempts.

"Well, I learned the basics from Celine before she moved in with Mark, but my staff does most of the cooking anymore," Damien explains, starting on his own bowl.

"I owe Celine a thank you. Last time you cooked for me, it's what caused me to be sick," you laugh slightly as you remember that "meal," using the term "meal" loosely, of course.

"In my defense, we were drunk," Damien points out, smiling at the memory. He's only smiling because he wasn't unlucky enough to eat it.

"Yes, and then I was suffering from food poisoning," he laughs fully at that, and you're thankful that at least a funny story came out of your misery. Damien finishes much faster than you do, but he sits with you and entertains with some more reminiscing as you slowly finish the full bowl.

"Why don't you go to your room and get in something more comfortable? I'll tidy up here and will be up in a moment," Damien suggests, standing to take your bowls to the sink.

"Dames, you really don't need to stay,"

"None of that, I always have time to be there for you. Go on upstairs," your protest dies in your throat when Damien briefly rests his hand on top of yours, squeezing gently. Then he's heading back over to the sink, starting the water and rinsing the dishes. You make your way upstairs, changing into a more comfortable outfit, resting on the edge of your bed after the effort of getting upstairs and getting changed. Damien knocks before coming in, always the gentleman, bringing a glass of water with him.

"I really don't need you to supervise me taking a nap," you point out as he sets the glass on your bedside table.

"I won't be supervising; I'm just keeping you company. You get settled in; I have to grab something." Part of you is embarrassed at the idea of Damien sitting with you while you sleep, but the other part of you recognizes the number of things he had seen you do in university and, well, taking a nap beside him was nothing compared to that.

You're laying down, just getting comfortable, when Damien reenters, carrying his briefcase in the hand not occupied by his cane.

"Do you mind if I sit beside you?" He asks, not even resting his hand on the bed until you nod. You glance over at him as he settles in, first noticing he was polite enough to kick off his shoes, then noticing his bare forearms, sleeves still rolled up from preparing lunch. He pulls out a file from the briefcase, starting to read it over while humming something under his breath. Damien's voice is rich and sweet enough when speaking, but his hums are like melted chocolate. You don't even notice how tired and relaxed you are until you're dozing off, asleep in mere minutes.

The sun is setting when you wake up, Damien's silhouette practically glowing with the late afternoon sunlight that hits him from the window. He's buried in another file, pen in hand. His other hand, you notice with surprise, is holding one of yours, thumb idly stroking the back of your hand as he reads, occasionally making a note. Now that you're awake, you should pull away, because this isn't proper- Damien's your friend, and your boss, but he's also so warm, and you're so comfortable, and you never want to let go of his hand. You shift slightly, drawing his attention your way, and you could die from how much affection is held in his smile as he notices you're awake.

"Ah, there's the little monster," he greets, and even though you're awake, he doesn't pull his hand away. You look down at your joined hands, Damien following your gaze- for a second, you swear he's blushing as he pulls away, but it could easily be the lighting.

"I'm sorry about that, you grabbed at my hand while you were asleep, and I didn't want to disturb you," he explains.

"Ah, sorry about grabbing you," you reply, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't apologize, I didn't mind," now that's definitely a blush rising on his face as he realizes what he said. You don't press the topic anymore; it's clear that he's flustered,  so you just roll over and reach your arms above your head to stretch. You slowly move to sit, grabbing the water off your bedside table, and taking a long drink.

"Are you hungry? I can heat the soup, or maybe I could make some pasta if your stomach is feeling better,"

"I think I could handle some pasta," you say, Damien nodding and moving to stand up.

"Take your time getting downstairs; it shouldn't take too long to have dinner prepared," Damien says as he packs his files and pen away into his briefcase, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his cane before leaving the room. You take your sweet time stretching and moving to stand. The water is boiling, and Damien is adding pasta to the pot as you get downstairs. True to his word, it doesn't take very long for the noodles to be prepared, Damien adding a bit of butter and a hint of salt and pepper before serving you a plate.

"Hopefully, it isn't too dull a meal, but we don't want to take any chances agitating your stomach even if it's feeling better right now," Damien says. The noodles are, admittedly, very plain, but it's also nice to have something a bit heavier in your stomach, even if it isn't a very exciting meal. There's less conversation this meal- you aren't sure that you fully woke up from your afternoon nap, and Damien seems content with the silence. It's quiet even after you finish, Damien talking and washing your plates as you finish another glass of water.

"Well," Damien starts once the dishes are set in the drying rack, fusing with his cane in a way that betrays discomfort.

"Well?" You question, not having enough context to prompt him further.

"I know it's a bit early, but since you're sick, you probably should be heading to bed soon," he says.

"Right. Would you want to stay the night?" You're not sure where the boldness to ask that question came from, your face burning with a blush as soon as you say it. Damien looks just as embarrassed but, well. He hasn't shut you down, hasn't proclaimed how immoral it is to even suggest that.

And then, "Do you really want me to stay?"

That's not the response you were expecting.

"I'd be happy to have you," while the sentiment was true, it was much bolder than you would usually be.

"Then I'd be happy to stay," your heart melts when he looks at you like that- if you were a little younger, a little more confident and naive, you would call that expression one of love. As it were, you knew better than to call it that, but it made your heart flutter nonetheless.

So, you end up lying on your side in bed, respectfully facing away as Damien removes his shirt and belt and his slacks. It was the only practical way for him to sleep, you had both agreed, but you wouldn't encroach on his privacy and observe as he disrobes. The situation was indecent enough as it is; there was certainly no reason to add to it. You're blushing as the bed dips, the covers shifting a bit as he slides between them.

You reach for the bedside table, turning off the lamp, plunging the room into a darkness that feels almost oppressive. You're hyper-aware of everything- his breathing, your own breathing, the warmth of having another person in the bed, the way the bed moves as Damien shifts. Then, a deep breath.

"Would you," Damien pauses, speaking quietly, "could I hold you?"

That isn't a question you asked a friend, you think, blushing at the implications behind him asking that.

"I wouldn't mind that," you answer, and your voice sounds too loud in the quiet room. There's more shifting then, a hesitant arm resting over your side, and you can tell that Damien hasn't fully settled, posed to pull away at any moment. So, you snuggle back, feeling his chest against your back, sighing as you let yourself relax into his touch. He relaxes a moment later, his arm a comfortable pressure on your side, breath warm where it occasionally brushes your ear. You fall asleep like that, his warmth almost painfully comfortable, and you have a blissfully deep sleep for the first time in ages.

The first thing you notice is how bright the room is, the sun much deeper in the sky than it would usually be when you get up. The next thing you notice is how much better you feel, no traces of nausea and barely tired. Then you notice that your bed is empty, and it's an incredibly disappointing realization that Damien had left while you were sleeping. But, on your bedside table was a glass of water, still cool, and a folded note with your name on it in curling script.

"My dearest,

I am terribly sorry to leave while you're still asleep. Unfortunately, I received an urgent request and had to go into the office earlier than I had been planning, and you needed the rest, so I didn't want to wake you. I left instructions for reheating the soup down in the kitchen, make sure you eat lunch and drink plenty of water. After work today, I will be stopping by check in on you, but you can call me if you need anything. Feel better soon.

Love,

Damien"

He called you his dearest and he signed the note with love, and you’re nearly swooning. You can't count how many times you skim the note, grinning every time your eyes cross his signature. Eventually, you manage to get up- you haven't had a proper day off in forever, and you fully intend to take advantage of it with a proper lazy day. And, at the end of the day, you get to look forward to your dearest, your Damien, coming home to you.

Well, maybe coming down with a cold isn't the worst thing after all.

[whumpforthewin]

The Answer - 4

“Put him in the other corner,” this absolute douche bag nearly growled. If Jack didn’t think he had a concussion he would’ve rolled his eyes, but right now everything was mostly blurry and rolling his eyes seemed like a lot of work. 

He was thrown in the corner away from the rest of the girls. He didn’t exactly know why. But he could guess. The other guys were out and while Jack was definitely not the biggest threat here he knew why some people might think that. Sexist pricks the lot of them. 

These guys were in some sort of turf war with his pimp and they were caught in the middle of it. Now his pimp was out and they chose to strike. 

When they first burst into his apartment he fought back, of course he did. All that got him was like five wailing on him and cuffing his hands behind his back. He hit the wall and slid down onto his side. Sure he was used to not using his hands but he wasn’t a miracle worker. 

“Get a picture of him. Make sure his face is visible. I want Dark to know we’re serious.” 

Jack froze. Oh, this wasn’t a turf war with his pimp. This was a war against Dark, whatever that meant. And while Jack didn’t know exactly what Dark did, it made sense, and it was clear these guys were way out of their league. So he did the only rational thing. 

He started laughing. 

“Shut up, bitch!” The man snapped and kicked him in the stomach. 

Jack gasped to catch his breath. “I ‘aven’t seen that prick in over a month. You think this is gonna prompt him to act? An’ what? Give inta your demands?” His accent was thicker through the pain but he didn’t care. 

The man grabbed him by the hair and lifted his head to point him at the camera. The camera flashed and he flinched. The man let him drop. 

“Send it to Dark.” Jack still let out a chuckle.

But then it became a waiting game. A few times Jack tried to explain he was nothing to Dark and each time they would kick or hit him to shut him up. 

Turns out being a hostage was actually pretty boring. Aside from being roughed up, nothing happened. 

Until the phone rang. 

Everyone tensed. But the main guy answered it. 

“Damien, glad you finally got my message.” Jack cringed; apparently this guy actually had a death wish. 

“Morroe, I didn’t think you were this idiotic.” Dark said and Jack did not think about how good it sounded to hear his voice again. 

“I’m a businessman Dark, I go where it’s most profitable,” the guy, Morroe said. “I’m sure you want to speak to your toy.”

Jack flinched as the guy started to walk over to him. 

“No.”

Morroe stumbled mid step. “What do you mean no?” 

“If you’re going to allow me to speak to anyone I would speak to Amy. The dark haired woman behind you.”

Jack had to admit, first there was confusion then there was hurt. It made sense, in a cruel way. Dark had been coming to him almost daily for a few months then stopped. It made sense he was still getting his dick wet somewhere. 

“If you wish for this conversation to continue you’ll hand the phone to her.”

Amy held out her hand. And Jack saw clearly for the first time she wasn’t afraid of these douchebags. If anything she looked more annoyed. 

Morroe looked bewildered but almost mechanically handed over the phone. 

“Amy, ravishing as ever.”

She looked unimpressed. “You’ve put me in a rough spot here, Dark.” 

“My apologies.” Jack could almost see the unapologetic grin on Dark’s face as he said it. “Is everyone alright?” 

“Jack’s been roughed up but he’s breathing. No one else has been touched aside from roughly shoving us into Jack’s room,” Amy explained. 

“Good.” Jack didn’t know why Dark cared. Or maybe he didn’t and this was just to make sure Jack was the only collateral. 

“Would you inform Morroe that he is to let you all go if he wishes to remain breathing?”

Morroe yanked the phone out of Amy’s hand. “Now you listen here Dark! I’m the one that calls the shots here.” He pulled a gun out of his pants that Jack hadn’t noticed. Granted head wounds tended to mean you missed things. 

He stormed over to Jack. “If you want either of these bitches to keep their brains in their skull you’ll do what I say.” He put the gun to Jack’s forehead and Jack froze. 

He hadn’t been threatened with a gun before. He didn’t like it. 

But then he turned the phone around and Jack saw Dark for the first time. He appeared to be in an office. Hands in front of him, studying the room and now Jack through the phone.

“Shoot him then.” 

Jack’s heart dropped to his stomach. 

“I’ll do it!” The safety clicked off. Jack couldn’t suppress the whimper that left him. The barrel was cold and final against his forehead.

“You won’t.” 

Jack should’ve known. Dark said he cared but this was all just a game to him, and Jack was the loser. He wasn’t sure if Dark was the winner but that hardly mattered when the loser ended up dead. He shut his eyes to wait for nothingness.

“If you do, I’ll make sure your death is nowhere near as quick as his.” Jack’s eyes shot open. In the low quality screen he couldn’t see what Dark was feeling but his voice was hard and cold. Jack wanted to shrink back but he was already pressed against the wall.

“What you are going to do,” Dark continued, “is open that door when you hear a knock, you’re going to stand to one side of the room, and you’re going to let everyone leave. If you do that you’ll live long enough to tell your boss you failed.” 

By the time he finished speaking there was a knock, two quick taps on the door. When no one moved there was a crack before the door flew in, sending a guy crashing into the wall. 

A blue headed boy popped in. “Heya Amy!” 

“Hey Eef. Hi Tyler,” Amy said standing. 

A bigger man walked in behind this Eef person and nodded to her. 

“Might want to remove the gun Morroe,” Eef said, pulling a much larger weapon to his front. “I don’t have any qualms of killing you and I guarantee I’m a faster shot.” 

Morroe seemed to way his options before flicking the safety back on the gun and stepping back. The bigger guy, Tyler, walked over and lifted Jack to his feet. 

“Can you walk?” He asked, cutting the zip ties around his wrists. 

Tyler’s voice was much gentler than he thought it would be. 

“I’ll help him.” Amy walked to his side as Eef directed the rest of the girls out. 

“Ethan, Tyler, if anything goes wrong, shoot them.” And with that the call ended. 

Amy helped him down the stairs and outside. “Stay here. When Tyler and Ethan come out, stay next to them. I’m going to go calm down the girls.” She leaned him against the wall. 

Jack shut his eyes. His head was pounding. The last hour and a half had been the most stressful of his life. 

“You good?” Jack jumped as Eef, maybe Ethan, touched his shoulder. 

“Yep, nope, totally fine, just was held hostage, beat to hell, and threatened with a gun. I’m fuckin’ peachy,” Jack growled. 

Ethan pulled his hand back. “Fair enough. Sorry about that.” 

Tyler held out a card. “Dark wasn’t sure if you’d lost it or not. Wanted us to give you another. He also said he would explain.”

Jack took the card, grateful his hands were only shaking a little. “I’ll think about it.” 

“His door is always open. We’ve got to go, let Amy do her thing. Nice to meet you Jack!” Ethan pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before dancing off. 

“Nice to meet you Jack.” Tyler also pressed a kiss to his other cheek and headed after Ethan. It was an odd gesture but one he appreciated, he felt oddly soothed by it.

Jack looked at the card in his hands. He held onto it like it was the only thing keeping him alive. And it actually might’ve been. 

Tag List:

@whumper-in-training

[crackedegotheories]

Body Count

(Sorry in advance, I think I might have gone a little too long with this one and wandered around a bit. It’s less a cracked theory, and more of a “probably best not to think too hard about the implications” theory. Also, just to make things less confusing, I’m going to call the Mark character Actor Mark/Markiplier and the real Mark just Mark in this one.)

By the end of Who Killed Markiplier, there’s a lot of body-swapping going on as a result of people taking advantage of the house entity’s ability to play fast and loose with the concept of death.

First off, let’s go over who we know died in the course of WKM: Actor Mark, obviously, during a game of Russian Roulette in the cellar with the Colonel according to Mark in the livestream explaining everything; Abe the Detective, shot in the heart by the Colonel (he got better); the District Attorney/the viewer, shot by the Colonel and went over a railing; Celine the Seer (???); and Damien (???).

Those last two have the distinction of being the only victims to not be shot by the Colonel and to have their deaths be entirely off-screen. At least with Actor Mark there was a body, at least long enough to confirm he was dead (again). The only reason we know they apparently died is because the DA sees them in the upside-down post-fall, where Damien confirms the first body swap, and the events of DAMIEN make it pretty clear that our boy isn’t himself anymore.

The last time we saw the twins together, they were walking back toward the same room where Celine held her seance with the DA. The next time we see that room, there’s light spilling out just before Celine possessed by the house entity throws open the door. George the Groundskeeper manages to lock the door with the help of the DA and considers his job done, even though Celine (or whatever is piloting her body) is still inside there.

There’s no sign of Damien or what became of him, and by the time the DA dies, both twins are in the upside-down void with a broken and empty Actor Mark body, and both are very angry and very willing to talk a certain viewer into trusting them. (Plus a house entity, but we’ll get to that in a minute.)

So what happened? Damien tells us Actor Mark is walking around in his body, but it doesn’t seem like his death can be entirely blamed on Actor Mark yoinking his body. Considering the lengths Celine/Damien/the entity go to get the DA to let them in, it seems like there has to be both an available body lying around and some kind of consent on the other end.

It’s possible that Damien did give permission, especially if Actor Mark reached out to him during a second attempt at the seance. Thinking that he’s helping his friend, Damien lets him in only to be kicked into the void with Actor Mark’s old body, which is apparently so broken that neither twin believes it can be used to leave.

It’s also possible that Damien died in that room, and Actor Mark took advantage of his confusion to take his body, just as Celine/Damien/the entity would do with the DA. In DAMIEN, Damien is clearly unaware of the fact that he is dead, much less how he died, and Actor Mark says that Celine really did a number on him. Celine was keeping Damien safe, or at least trying to, and part of that involved keeping him unaware of the truth of his condition or how he got there.

Short of Actor Mark using his old body one last time to kill Damien himself, it doesn’t seem likely that he killed him. Even the entity doesn’t directly kill anyone, instead preying on their minds and twisting them to the point they’re willing to take desperate measures until it can possess a body of its own.

Like Celine’s.

DAMIEN shows us Celine and Damien as they are inside of the DA’s stolen body, how much of a toll staying in control all by herself is taking on Celine and leading up to Damien taking the reins while she gets some rest. The entire timeline of DAMIEN, in which Damien manages to cut down hundreds if not thousands of trees for every single day that passes, seems from what Mark has said to take place in the few seconds from when the DA wakes up on the floor to when we physically see the hand off between Celine and Damien.

Just that little bit of time takes that much of a toll on Celine? Maybe, if time doesn’t seem to flow the same way when you’re in that kind of existence, if trying to use and control the entity’s power is far too much for one person to handle on their own, if it’s enough to overwhelm and destroy its host so quickly that George believes locking Celine away is enough to deal with what’s taken her over (or at least give himself and the others time to leave the house and its influence before it can take a new host).

Maybe it’s enough that, if you don’t know what to expect, how to control it and not let it control you, you could wind up unintentionally hurting or even killing an innocent bystander, a brother who was just trying to help.

...Moving on, that leaves us with five victims and five dead bodies.

We’ve got Actor Mark, who ruined his body to the point it’s apparently unusable.

We’ve got Abe, revived thanks to the house where death doesn’t mean the same thing and still very much in his own body come the events of WMLW.

We’ve got Damien, whose body was hijacked by Actor Mark.

We’ve got the District Attorney, whose body was in turn stolen by Celine/Damien/the entity to make our favorite bad guy, Darkiplier.

And we’ve got Celine.

The fact that the twins need the viewer’s body would suggest that Celine’s body isn’t an option for them. That could be because it’s still locked up in that room, but why would that make a difference? The Colonel’s still running around, and let’s be honest, it wouldn’t take much to convince him to shoot a lock off of a door.

It could be because that possession, as brief as it was, left Celine’s body with so many issues that even one with a bullet hole and a broken neck seemed like a better alternative. Maybe the entity left her body in such a condition that trying again would leave it as broken and useless as Actor Mark’s old body.

Look at Darkiplier: even as a more stable version with two souls taking the burden together, we constantly see him “glitching” in ADWM, MarkiplierTV, and AHWM. Could you imagine the effect that would have on a person?

From the hand picture up above, we can see Dark has some control over his physical appearance, at least early on. Apparently he has enough control to maintain his new appearance in the long run, although it’s possible he could change it in the future. (Mark, please, Dark!Celine, just once, please.) Someone with less control could possibly change basic physical aspects from second to second, sometimes in ways that just wouldn’t make sense for a normal human body like, I don’t know, extra limbs out of nowhere.

We’ve also seen Dark “split” when he’s upset or worked up, or even just while sitting in on a meeting that’s not going so well. Some of this appears to be a side effect of having two people in control who don’t always see eye to eye, but in some of the frames when Dark is screaming, it suggests less anger and more pain. Being shoved into a body that isn’t your own, that even without its previous occupant may still be trying to reject you, can’t be a pleasant experience.

His existence just doesn’t seem to mesh with reality in other ways. In AHWM, Dark makes it clear that he’s aware of how things are looping, that he’s being forced to relive the same moments over and over again.

And he’s not the only one. Both Wilford and Abe are aware that things aren’t quite right with reality (although Abe is still coming to terms with it while Wilford’s just learned to go with the flow and have some fun with it). Neither one seems to be able to remember everything clearly, and we don’t see them try to change things, not on the scale that Dark seems to be able to do.

In both ADWM and AHWM, he twists the “game” Actor Mark is playing and tries to use it to his own advantage, for example by offering his own “choices” and planting hints in every possible ending in AHWM to expose how shallow this reality is.

But imagine someone touched by the same kind of power Dark has, that awareness of things repeating, of being able to relive the same moment again and again and again, but without that same level of control. Not able to rearrange the story or offer new choices, just to go through the same paths in hopes of finding a different ending.

Leaving anyone who took Celine’s body to be a basically faceless entity, questionably human and living with who knows how much pain, and completely aware that they can redo any choice over and over again, so long as they’re allowed to make the choice in the first place.

And who would be desperate enough to choose that kind of existence?

[insertdeeplyrics]

The new guy

Hello! Well, here you have it, my first Destiel fanfic! I plan to write more, but I wanted this share this one first, as it has been sitting on my computer for around two years. Sorry if it sucks!  Also, any type of feedback is appreciated, as I want to improve my writing skills (which are quite rusty hehehe). Finally, if there are any grammatical mistakes or expressions that are a bit off, I apologize, English is not my first language. I hope you like it! :)

It was Dean’s first day at the force after spending six months away undercover to take out a drug ring. He had been dreaming about this day for ages, not being able to have any contact with his family or friends was difficult enough on its own, but to spend the best part of his time stuck with criminals was just plain torture. Besides, he was not big on changes, he liked stability and routines, that’s the main reason why he avoided going undercover unless there was no other option left. He spent all morning carefully choosing his outfit, trying to feel more like himself than he had been these past few months. As he opened the closet, he quickly spotted his favorite shirt: the light blue one that his mother gave him for his birthday three years ago and that made his green eyes pop. He remembered he used to wear a dark blue tie with it, alongside some grey dress pants, so he went ahead and put the outfit together. He took the badge from his bedside table, wearing it like a necklace. After he left the house, he took a quick glance at himself in the mirror as a small smile crept upon his lips: he might still feel like Jason Damien on the inside, but he sure as hell nailed the Dean Winchester look. Perhaps if he cut that ridiculously long sandy blonde mane he was forced to grow out, he would retrieve a little part of himself.

The drive to the precinct was a rather intense one, as all of Dean’s anxiety started to kick in. What if his partners didn’t recognize him? Or what if any of them had had an accident while on duty and they were gone? What if the precinct was different? What if he was different? Dean rushed through the busy streets of New York, almost running a couple of the red lights. After fifteen minutes of car horns, some blasphemies and taking a wrong turn, he arrived at the 99th precinct. He barely even made it to the elevator, which was closing its doors when Dean arrived. Luckily, one of the men inside noticed the panic in his face and held it open for a few seconds. Dean sent him a grateful look and a quick smile and then proceeded to stress over how he was going to react when he finally saw his friends after some long, hard six months. As soon as the doors of the elevator opened, revealing the second floor of the 99th precinct, he was instantly filled with a sense of relief: everything still looked the same. People were going back and forth all over the office, a phone always ringing on the background, some officers taking statements or locking up some crook. In the middle of the office were his colleagues standing in a circle with their backs turned from him. Not quite the welcome he was expecting. He walked towards them, his heart pounding. Once he was close enough, he noticed a man amongst the group, around whom the circle was created. By the quick glance he took, he saw that the unknown man had raven black hair and a tall and well-built frame.

“Hey, guys! Look who’s back!”, shouted Charlie as soon as she saw the sandy blond man. Everyone turned their attention to Dean, who was instantly tackled with hugs and words of relief and happiness. He didn’t even have time to properly process the situation.

“Oh, how stupid of us!” said Charlie while he was still caught in a whirlwind of people. “Let me introduce you to C. J. Novak —He has been transferred from the 96.” Dean was still a bit disoriented due to the overwhelming welcome, but something changed in him when he was met with the blue-eyed man who was leaning on Detective Rogers’ desk, observing the scene with his hands in his pockets. Now that he was closer to him, Dean noticed he had piercing blue eyes, rather chapped lips, a squared jaw and a five o’clock shadow. He was wearing a white buttoned up shirt that hinted at his worked-out body, as well as some black suit pants.

Dean stretched his arm and put his hand out for C. J. to shake. “Dean Winchester”

“So I’ve heard. Pleasure to meet you.” He had a deep voice, which took Dean by surprise. They didn’t break eye contact once while they were shaking hands. He didn’t feel quite right about the new guy, there was something about him that made him uneasy. For the few seconds —that felt like ages— that the handshake lasted, Dean forgot that there were people around them. He was too distracted by the man’s eyes and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. Tension started to build up between the two detectives, the atmosphere notably shifting to a dense and heavy one.

“Winchester, good to have you back!” the tall and broad frame of his boss, Captain Singer, appeared in front of him, forcing him to remove his green eyes from the new guy. The tension evaporated, and Dean found himself releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “If you don’t mind, I would like to see you in my office.”

“See you guys later” Dean took a last glance to the new guy before he followed the older man to his office.

On the way there, he ran into some co-workers who quickly greeted him and congratulated him for the success of his mission. Once they reached their destination, just a few steps away from the elevator, the Captain closed the door and motioned him to sit down on the chair in front of his desk.

“Winchester, it’s a pleasure to have you back on the team. I know how hard it can be to go undercover, but it really pays off: The Lockwood family has been finally sent to jail thanks to your inside information. You are one of our best detectives.”

“Thank you, sir. All I want to do is go back to my regular job and move on.”

“About that” Captain Singer paused, avoiding eye contact. Dean had been working with the older man long enough to know what it meant. “There had been some changes around here while you were gone.”

There it was. Ever since he saw the new guy, he knew that something was off and that he wouldn’t be the only thing new around here.

“A few of your colleagues have been forced to leave the force due to getting hurt while on duty, Detectives Rogers and Joseph. I know you had worked with them on numerous cases, so I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I am also sad to inform you that Detective Masters passed away a few weeks after you left. She was trying to stop a mugging and, while she was chasing the criminal, she suffered a heart attack from which she never recovered. I’m only telling you this because I know how close you two were. Sorry, Dean”.

The news hit him hard. The only thing he could do was just to remain silent, his eyes fixed on the carpeted floor of Captain Singer’s office, trying to process all the information. Hearing about Detective Rogers and Joseph was a bitter pill to swallow, but he comforted himself thinking that at least they were alive, but Detective Masters was a different story. She was the first partner he ever had, the one with whom he worked his first case. It was she who showed him the ropes, who taught him how to be a competent detective. Before leaving, Dean had the hardest time saying goodbye to her.

“I’m sorry” said the Captain. “I understand it’s a lot to digest.” Dean nodded his head, attempting to swallow the lump on his throat. He stayed in silence for a few more seconds, trying to compose himself a little bit.

“Thank you for telling me, Captain.” Singer’s features softened.

“Anyway, I won’t hold you any longer, you can go back to work. And Winchester, once again, good job.” He dedicated him a small smile before burying his head in a never-ending-pile of files.

Once Dean got back to his desk, he retrieved that sense of familiarity that got lost during his conversation with the Captain. Everything was exactly how he left it, his pencil holder sitting at the far left corner of his desk, filled mostly with blue pens and a few pencils that were halfway down their size, some paper clips and rubber bands scattered next to it, the picture of him and his brother Sam on their very first trip to New York on the opposite corner and the all-too-familiar folder full of cases neatly stacked at the side.  Dean smiled to himself: things were still the same. His smile was quickly turned into a furrow when he saw the blue-eyed man from before plop down on the desk right in front of him.

“You’re not Charlie” Dean thought at loud when he saw his partner, taken aback by the sudden intrusion.

“And you’re not Brad Pitt, but I guess we’ll have to make do” the comment took him by surprise. Now he was a hundred percent convinced he didn’t like the guy. “They promoted Detective Bradbury a few months ago, so they moved her to the third floor.”

“She got promoted? That’s good to hear!”

“Yes, it was big news around here. The celebration party was insane.”

“You threw a party?” Dean asked quietly, a pang of jealousy spreading through his chest. He knew it wasn’t fair to feel upset by that, after all, he was undercover, and he couldn’t reach out to anyone.

“Of course! She has been working hard for years to become a Sargent!” C. J. Novak huffed.

“Exactly how long have you been working here?” Dean asked, unable to keep his anger from showing.

 Weeks passed and Dean was now more convinced than ever that the chances of the new guy —he refused to acknowledge that he had been around for more than a few weeks— and him becoming friends were zero to none. Ever since the first day, Dean felt suspicious of him, which lead to becoming surly whenever C. J. was around, which was all the time given that they sat in front of each other. Perhaps some of his negative energy rubbed onto his partner, because, soon enough, Novak started being standoffish. The atmosphere surrounding their desks was almost too heavy for anyone to handle, so they steered away from the negative environment the two men managed to create. That they were practically at daggers dawn took Dean’s friends by surprise, since they knew them both and thought they would have gotten on like a house on fire by now. And every time they asked the sandy blond why he disliked the blue-eyed detective so much, he was at a loss of words. He didn’t know why C. J. got on his nerves so much, all he knew is that he did and that was a good enough reason to not give him the time of the day.

But it all changed once they worked their first case together. Up until that point, they had managed to avoid doing anything together, Dean making the most efforts to dodge the situation. But this time, there was no way out: Captain Singer was tired of the excuses he kept coming out with and gave him the order to work with Detective Novak.

“So, there was no way to talk Captain Singer out of this.” Dean walked to C. J. and threw the file on his desk. He received a long sigh from his partner.

“So, what do we do?”

“I guess we go check the crime scene” replied the green-eyed man with resignation.

Rather hesitantly, they got into a police car and hit the road. C. J. read through the file, since his partner barely gave him time to even see what the case was about at the precinct. The atmosphere in the car was tense, Dean had his jaw clenched and he focused on the road, trying his best to forget that another person was in the car with him.

“So, stabbed through the heart at a dentist office.” C. J. tried to make the air lighter, aiming for small talk. At his partner’s silent response, he went on talking. “No murder weapon and only just one witness, it sure looks interesting. What do you think?”

“I think you should stop talking. Look, I don’t think neither of us is happy with this situation, so let’s get this over with as soon as possible. No small talk, no trying to socialize with each other. I hope this is just a one-time thing, so let’s just stick strictly to business, okay?” C. J. looked at him, frustration clear in his eyes and resumed to sit in silence while gazing out the window.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at the dentist office where the crime was committed. Surprisingly enough, the office floor was completely clean, and if it weren’t for the dead body in the middle of the room, it would be impossible to know that someone had been a murdered. The corpse was lying on his back, a stab wound on his chest. Some other officers were already there, taking pictures and examining the crime scene. The witness, a middle-aged woman with short black hair was waiting outside the office, fidgeting with her hands and her gaze fixed on the entrance door.

“Detectives Winchester and Novak, NYPD. Are you Ruby Campbell?”

“Yes, I am.” C. J. took a notepad and a pen out of his jacket to take her testimony, which earned him a dirty look from Dean.

“So, what can you tell us about last night? When did you find the body?” asked the dark-haired detective with his deep voice, which made Dean’s blood boil for whatever reason.

“I’m the receptionist here. I usually help Doctor Jason close, but I had to leave early because it was my daughter’s school play. When I came to work this morning, I saw that his car was still parked, which caught my attention since he was supposed to leave today to visit his family in Detroit. I went to his office and found him dead on the floor.” The woman told her story with tears in her eyes, and her voice broke a couple of times while she was narrating the events.

C. J. wrote everything down on his notepad and comforted the witness, showing tremendous care and tenderness, which became too much for Dean, who excused himself and went to check the body while his partner made further questions.

“What are your thoughts on the crime scene, Detective Winchester?” asked Detective Novak in a serious tone, trying to engage in a professional conversation.

Dean, who tried to ignore the chills he got when he heard his partner’s deep voice address him as ‘Detective Winchester’, angered at the fact that the other man was still willing to have a conversation with him. He gripped the steering wheel even harder, his knuckles turning white.

“The witness can be ruled out, her alibi checks out, I looked at the security cameras.” The blue-eyed man read through his notes, resolved in carrying on with the conversation even if his partner was giving him the cold shoulder. “What we have to do when we arrive at the precinct is to call the victim’s family, they probably are still waiting for him to show up in Detroit.”

“Just shut up!” roared Dean, unable to take the sound of his voice anymore. “This is hard enough; you don’t have to fill the silence with whatever comes to your mind. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your stupid thoughts and theories on the case. I know we have to work this thing together, but I swear to God, if I have to hear another word come out of your mouth, I’m leaving this car.” He took a quick glance at his partner, who had a furrowed brow and his hands turned into fists.

“Stop the car” Detective Novak said quietly.

“What?” asked Dean in disbelief.

“STOP THE DAMN CAR.” Intimidated by his partner reaction, the green-eyed detective pulled up at the side of the road. “We’ve been working this case for less than three hours and you have been nothing but hell on wheels!” yelled C. J., looking directly into his green eyes. “Look, I don’t care if you have been nothing but a dick to me, even if I had been nothing but nice to you ever since you came back; I’m fine with you bossing me around as if I were your fucking assistant, but what I won’t tolerate is you putting my professional integrity on the line. Whether you like it or not, we are working this case together, so swallow your damn pride, because we are talking murder here, Dean, there’s too much at stake. So, stop behaving like a damn child and start acting like the great detective everyone claims you are.”

Dean was speechless. Once he composed himself from the original shock, he got angrier than before. He knew damn well that he was being more than unfair to C. J., and he hated to admit that the other detective was right. So, he shot him a dirty look, which gained him an exasperated sigh from the blue-eyed detective and drove back to the precinct.

Once they arrived at the office, their tension and bad temper spread through the whole room, like a dark cloud blocking the sun rays, letting everyone know that a storm was coming. The always busy and noisy precinct turned silent, as if afraid to set one of them off. Everyone steered clear of the two detectives, who went their separate ways as quickly as possible, sick of the other’s company. Dean went straight to the coffee room, in desperate need of caffeine to get through the rest of the day, while C. J. went to his desk to start with the paperwork. After twenty minutes, Dean had calmed down enough to go back to work. However, as he was about to leave, a furious Charlie approached him, forcing him to stay in the coffee room.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Winchester?!” she yelled, poking his chest with her finger, while Dean was left with his arms up in the air in defense. “I’ve just talked to C. J. and he has told me about how much of an asshole you have been to him. At first, I thought you were being salty about this whole new partner thing, but this has gone way too far. Pull your head out of your ass, apologize to C. J., and work the damn case.” As she spoke, she got up in Dean’s personal space, until he was backed into a wall, her finger never leaving his chest. Charlie could be intimidating when she put her mind to it. She sent him one last threating look and stormed out the room.

As soon as he processed Charlie’s threat, he straightened himself up and returned to his desk. It bothered him to admit that they were both right, he was well aware of being unreasonable and unfair, but he just couldn’t do anything about how he felt about the guy, he still had this weird feeling about him. However, for everyone’s sake, he decided to put his feelings aside and work the damn case. The sooner he ripped the band-aid off, the better.

He set a cup of coffee on Detective Novak’s desk, who looked up from his computer screen and eyed the beverage confused.

“Consider it a peace offering”, said Dean flatly, as he himself started his computer up, hiding behind its screen while peering from the corner of his eye his partner’s reaction. The other detective looked intermittently at him and the cup, still suspicious of the whole affair, until he finally caved in and took a sip of the coffee.

At first, they exchanged short and to-the-point sentences, a lot of formality still surrounding them. But as the case progressed and they were forced to stay late at night, they evolved from being at arm’s length, to getting along, some would even say they even became friendly. It was during those nights that the two of them bonded, which left Dean wondering why he had been so rude towards the other man for such a long time. By the end of the case, they were both as thick as thieves.

 “Heya, Angel” Dean greeted the dark-haired man as he set a cup of coffee on his desk, a custom he had adopted since they had buried the hatchet.

“How long are you going to keep calling me that?”

“What, you don’t like it? Would you rather I called you Castiel, the angel of Thursday?” replied amused, a playful grin on his face.

“I knew it was a bad idea to tell you my name” said C. J., obviously fed up with the nickname his colleague had decided to give him. Dean just laughed.

“Anyway, I was just dropping by to bring you your coffee. Charlie found a lead on a case she has been working on for weeks and she asked me to be her back-up, so we’re leaving in a few minutes. Any advice?” asked the sandy blond man while leaning against C. J.’s desk, with no intention at all to leave.

“A few: don’t piss Charlie off, follow her every order and listen to her. Oh, and don’t get shot again, I would hate to lose my drink slave. I forgot how life is like when you have to get coffee for yourself.”

“First of all, I technically didn’t get shot last time, a bullet grazed my arm. But don’t worry, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Dean winked at his partner, who started blushing. “Though, getting shot doesn’t sound that bad, I might do it again.” He moved closer to the dark-haired man, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I mean, it was really cute seeing how worried you were and how much you took care of me. Also, I heard scars make you more attractive. Perhaps you should get one yourself, that way you could get laid.”

“You know what, Winchester, blow me” C. J. rolled his eyes, trying to remember why he was still friends with such an idiot.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Blushing, the detective punched him playfully in the arm while Dean just laughed.

“Hey, Winchester! What the hell, man? I’ve been waiting ten minutes for you in the car! Stop flirting with Novak and let’s go!” yelled Charlie from the elevator, anger spilling from her voice.

“Gotta go, duty calls” Dean got up from his partner’s desk, putting a hand on his chest, while looking up, trying to add dramatism to the situation, which gained him a snort from his co-worker.

“I meant what I said earlier, Dean! Be careful!” shouted C. J. as his partner was approaching the elevator and meeting with the redheaded detective. He turned around and blew him a kiss. C. J. just rolled his eyes and went back to his work.

“Asshole” muttered under his breath, while a small smile made its way onto his lips.

 “What was all that about, Dean?” asked Charlie once they were on their way to a drugstore, the last place Charlie’s suspect had been seen.

“What do you mean?”

“Do I really need to explain it?” her tone full of exasperation. She was met with the dumbfounded expression of her colleague, forcing her to go on. “The non-stop flirting? The long-lasting eye sex? The heart-eyes you give each other when the other is not looking?”

“Oh, that” Dean suddenly felt shy and awkward. “It’s nothing. You know that I like flirting and C. J.'s so easy to mess with… Besides, I don’t swing that way.” The last comment got a snort from the redhead.

“Yeah, you’re as straight a circle, honey” she muttered under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“No, I heard you mumbling. What do you have to say?” Dean pressed on.

Charlie remained silent for a few seconds, debating whether she should speak or not.

“Well, this is probably not my place to say and this is something you’re supposed to figure out on your own, but it seems like you need a nudge in the right direction.” She paused, choosing her words carefully in order not to sound rude or patronizing.

“I’m not following” said Dean, confused. His whole body suddenly became tense. He could hear his heart beating in his head.

“Do you remember Lisa?”

“Of course, we dated for three years. But I don’t know what she has to do with any of this.”

“Remember his brother, the one you had a major crush on? Don’t even try to deny it”, she stopped him, seeing Dean was already opening his mouth in defense, “you might have played it off as admiring him for being a firefighter, but man, you couldn’t stop staring at him when he was around, completely ignoring your then girlfriend. You were drooling after him! She even stopped including him in our plans when you were around.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip as he remembered how the aforementioned girlfriend broke up with him, her words engraved in his mind: ‘You have some stuff to figure out, until then, I don’t think you can fully love me.’ He thought she meant something completely different, given that during the last years of their relationship, he was in a dark place and all she wanted was for him to get his shit together.

“And last year’s Christmas party? You probably won’t remember this because you were pretty wasted, but you spent all night flirting with the male bartender, with whom you ended up making out by closing time.”

“I don’t remember that” said the green-eyed detective, his voice small.

“Of course you don’t! You practically drank yourself senseless!” scoffed the redhead. “And now C. J. and your initial so-called hatred for the poor guy. I mean, I spent endless coffee breaks hearing you ramble on and on about him and how much he got into your nerves for doing the littlest of things that no one even noticed. And then you guys declared a truce and began flirting like crazy, getting to a point where everyone tries to avoid you two, because you guys are so chummy, that anyone who is with you two instantly feels like they are third-wheeling.” Dean felt his cheeks burn, as he bowed his head down, looking at his hands, ashamed.

“What are trying to say? That I am gay?” he quietly asked, trying to make sense of what Charlie was throwing his way.

“Well, that’s something you need to figure out,” she said in a much softer tone, “And you know that whatever happens, we’ll always have your back, right?” he just nodded, still trying to process everything, his gaze still fixed on his hands.

 After the heart to heart with Charlie, Dean felt more self-conscious around C. J. He toned down his flirting, which got the other man confused, who had already gotten used to his partner’s overly confident, snarky, and teasing remarks. Dean was also more distracted at work, usually messing up various forms and spacing out during coffee breaks or at lunch, not really listening to his partners’ stories of whatever arrest they had made that day. Those subtle changes didn’t go over C. J.’s head, who started worrying if something of a greater scale had happened to his desk partner.

 “Hey, Dean-o” greeted C. J., who bumped into him on the coffee room.

“Hey.” Replied the other man softly, not really looking up from his cup of coffee, deep in thought.

“So, how are you?” the dark-haired detective sat down on the chair next to him.

“Fine, I guess.” Dean started playing with the plastic stick, stirring his coffee.

“Is there something bothering you, Dean?” C. J. placed his hand on the other man’s forearm, making him look up from his coffee and directing his green eyes on Novak’s hand placement. “You seem off these days.”

“It’s just that I have recently found something and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help…”

“You have done more than you think.” Dean finally looked him in the eyes and offered him a genuine smile, which gained him another from his partner, easing his worries.

In that moment, Dean realized how hopelessly in love he was with C. J. Novak. He had spent these past few months not only trying to embrace his new-found bisexuality, but also figuring out how he felt about the deep-voiced detective. He initially thought he had a crush and that it would eventually go away, but seeing that he failed to stay away from his partner long enough to get over his stupid infatuation, he realized that it was probably bigger than he had deemed it at first. Still, he was new to all this consciously-flirting-with-guys thing, so he didn’t really know how to express his feelings to him. Besides, there was also the chance that C. J. wasn’t into dudes, so Dean decided that it was better to not act on his feelings and be content with giving him longing looks from behind the computer when the other detective wasn’t looking. It took some more weeks and a lot of soul-searching and awkward family conversations for Dean to finally build up enough courage to go back to their original aggressive flirting, which C. J. received with a smile and a ‘that’s the Winchester I know’. It wasn’t until he eavesdropped on one of C. J.’s phone calls to his sister and he made a passing comment about his previous boyfriend that Dean decided to ask the guy out, as Charlie was so adamant about every time the subject was brought up.

“Morning, sunshine!” like every morning, Dean set the coffee on his partner’s desk while he leaned against it. “Wow, you look like crap.” C. J. had dark circles around his eyes, droopy eyelids, and black strands of hair were sticking out in every direction.

“Gee, thanks Dean, you look stunning as always.” The sandy blond detective was sure that C. J. would’ve rolled his eyes if it weren’t because he was so tired. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Rough night?”

“Yeah” the blue-eyed detective sighed. “My neighbors recently had a baby, and she spent all night crying her lungs out. I barely got any sleep” as in cue, a yawn made its appearance.

“If you want to hit the sack on the break room, I won’t tell anyone. Maybe I’ll even join you, I’ve been told I make a great big spoon” said Dean proudly, moving closer to his colleague.

“Oh, Winchester, ever the tease. Tell me, do you actually plan on following through with all the propositions you have been making me all these months?” C. J. blurted out, leaving Dean speechless.

This isn’t exactly how he had expected to ask the man out, he was waiting for the perfect moment, like going to a shootout and after almost losing his life, he would return to the precinct and C. J. would run to his arms and probably then Dean would have enough courage to ask him on a date. But then again, in his head they were already married with two children, a dog, and a house in the suburbs. So, this was as good a moment as any.

“I am. In fact, how do you feel about dinner tonight at my place? Not to brag, but Charlie has remarked several times that my cooking skills are out of this world.” He tried to sound nonchalant and suave, but a sudden tremble on his voice and the constant fidgeting with his hands gave him away.

“Wait, are you serious? Are you asking me on a date?” C. J. shot his head up and looked at the sandy blonde man, who quickly glanced at him before returning his gaze to the floor, his head bowed down.

“I mean, if that’s what you want.” A smile appeared on C. J.’s face; any trace of tiredness erased from his features.

“Fucking finally” muttered the blue-eyed man. He took Dean’s red tie in his hand and pulled it, forcing the other man to bend forward, planting a kiss on his lips.

Everything leading up to it happened in slow motion for Dean. A million thoughts were rushing through his mind, when he suddenly felt a strong grip on his tie, and then before he knew it, detective Novak’s lips were on his own. It took him a few seconds to take in what was happening, but when he did, he gave into the kiss. When they pulled away, Dean was left dumbfounded, still not a hundred percent sure that if what just happened was real.

“So, tonight at 7.30?” was all that the green-eyed detective managed to stammer out. The other detective laughed, looking him with tender eyes.

“Yeah, I think I can make it.” They smiled at each other. “What took you so long?”

“I don’t know” replied Dean genuinely, going in for another kiss.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Twenty Three

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

After catching Remus up on what happened after dinner, Roman sat on his bed, staring at a blank paper, pen in hand. He sighed, typing on his phone. honestly re, i don’t know if i can do this. writing vows seems like an impossible task

Roman’s phone pinged almost immediately. you’ve got this down, roman, i know you do. have you tried being HONEST for once?

ew. no. not an option Roman said with certainty.

why not?

Roman turned red and was thankful Remus wasn’t in the room. He would instantly know that Roman was crushing. Instead, he took advantage of only being able to text. because saying that someone is “just okay” or “better than my parents” generally doesn’t come across as good vows

okay, okay, you got me there Remus allowed. what DO you like about him? what would you want to say to him were you actually in love with him?

thank you? i guess?

why?

because...he’s an escape. he’s sweet, and he cares about what i think. he makes sure that i matter

you better be writing those things down, ro, because that’s prime vows material Remus replied.

Roman scribbled it down dutifully and sighed. it still doesn’t feel like enough

it never does, from what i understand. you’ll figure it out. i know you will. you always were the smart one

still am, you idiot Roman replied with a smile and a winking emoji.

that’s the spirit! Remus took his time typing out his next text. do you want to string together some sentences for me? allow me to nitpick and beta-read your vows?

do i have much of a choice? you’ll nitpick them after the wedding given half the chance if i don’t let you do it now Roman sighed, rubbing his forehead. i’ll give it a shot, gimme a few

A quick confirmation from Remus and Roman was left staring at the paper on the bed, and the phone in his hands. With fingers trembling, he double-checked he and Remus weren’t in the group chat, and started to type.

Damien, I would be lying if I claimed to know exactly what to say to you. Despite all the words I have learned throughout my life, none of them seem to describe just how much I love you. You’re my escape from unpleasantries, with your ability to make me laugh. You ask my opinions, and my state of mind, and you listen attentively when I answer. You don’t care about all the things I hate about myself, dare I say you think they make me all the better, and I cannot fathom how that’s possible. Damien, you truly give me a chance to see myself in a new light, in YOUR light, and allow me to feel confident, if only for a moment. You never fail to make me smile, and see the silver lining in the clouds. I don’t believe in other halves, but I do believe in matching pairs, and honestly, Damien...you’re my match. It was hard to see at first—I know we got off to a rocky start—but I truly believe we’ll be in this together for the long haul. We’ll make it work. I love you, Damien, and I hope that we can be together ‘til death do us part, and beyond.

Roman got no response for a solid two minutes after he sent that experimental text. Just as Roman was about to poke Remus, he got a one-word response: wow

good wow? Roman asked, nibbling his lip.

roman, if you use that in the actual wedding, there won’t be a dry eye in the house. i guarantee it. and i’m sure fh will love it Remus replied. and when i say there won’t be a dry eye, i mean it. I’M tearing up at that. i wish someone would love ME that much. maybe more platonic-leaning, but...

Roman laughed. you’ll find someone, re. in fact, there’s a guy here named logan who is VERY interested in meeting you. damien and i agreed that the two of you would hit it off

he know I’m demiro? Remus asked.

not yet, that’s your story to tell. but he speaks out for the benefits of polyamory, and he doesn’t take crap from me OR damien. you’d def like him, even if you don’t LIKE him like him

Remus responded with a simple interesting and Roman rolled his eyes.

i told him not to tell you gorey facts so you don’t think he’s flirting, you’re safe

how very dare you! i’m in desperate need of gorey facts for a new fic i’m writing!

you’re terrible Roman scoffed. i’ll let him know, if you want me to

no, no, this could prove to be a fun challenge. see how long it takes for him to break >:) Remus’ evil laugh was almost audible.

don’t break him, he grades damien’s papers Roman paused, considered, and added, scratch that. damien might thank you for breaking him. that could get you in his good graces. do it

do i NEED to be in good graces with fh? Remus asked.

for my peace of mind, yes Roman replied.

but that’s no FUN! Remus shot back.

Roman snorted. tough. suck it up anyway

Remus’ grumbling was obvious by the way he didn’t reply. Roman laid back on his bed and sighed. He was tired, true, but he wasn’t sure he should be going to sleep quite this early, because he’d probably wake up in the middle of the night were that the case.

His mind kept on whirring with thoughts of the vows and the wedding, but when he opened his eyes next and checked the clock, six hours had gone by and it was past two in the morning. “Oh, damn it,” Roman muttered.

He checked his phone and saw that Remus hadn’t texted him in that time. Roman stood and changed into pyjamas, before padding outside his room. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to move around. He needed to do something besides stare at the ceiling as he tried to fall back asleep. He knew that sooner or later he would have to return to bed, but right now, he felt awake enough that one little walk would hardly wipe him out.

The castle was different at night. The hallway lights were already out, the only light coming in through the windows from the stars and the moon. Roman could vaguely hear talking coming from somewhere, no doubt the guards doing their rounds.

He walked to the library, not knowing where else to go, and as he walked in, he saw a stray light on, a sleeping figure against the table, back rising and falling slowly, soft curls falling around the figure’s face, and Roman swallowed. Damien. Damien always had his hair slicked back somehow, Roman didn’t realize that it might be that curly when left alone. And it was decidedly adorable. Roman took a breath and moved forward. No matter what he thought, Damien would probably appreciate falling asleep in an actual bed rather than in the library. “Damien?” Roman asked in a hushed whisper. He took another step and reached out. “Damien.”

Damien bolted upright as Roman’s fingers brushed against his shoulder. He blinked owlishly up at Roman. “Oh. Hello my dear. What are you doing up?”

“I accidentally fell asleep too early,” Roman said. “How late did you stay up?”

Damien checked his phone. “I was only asleep for an hour,” he said, scrubbing his face. “I came in here to work on the vows, because I always focus better in the library. But the words...refused to fall into place. I texted your brother, and he said that he had seen your vows and that I would enjoy them, but...aside from him talking about little things about you I didn’t know before, I didn’t get much done.”

“Are you sure?” Roman asked, eyeing the papers that Damien had been sleeping on. “You have quite a bit written.”

“Nothing concrete that I really like,” Damien grumbled. He took a breath, and looked away. “I’m sorry, my dear. I wanted to at least give you a good wedding, if we had to be married to each other by force for the rest of our lives, but I can’t even get the vows right.”

“Hey, Damien,” Roman said softly, tilting Damien’s head over so they were looking at each other. “I don’t care about the vows. I don’t care about the music, or the dancing, or the guests, or anything else about the wedding. As long as I’m with you, this whole thing will be bearable. I promise. Just...be yourself. I promise, that’s the best thing you can be.”

“You...promise?” Damien asked, and his voice sounded so broken and small, Roman didn’t know how to respond for a minute.

“I promise, Damien,” Roman said with a smile. “We don’t have to be in love with each other to enjoy the wedding. We can have fun talking about our relatives, and dance to our hearts’ content, and you get to meet my brother. It’ll be fun, no matter what you do or don’t say for the vows, all right?”

“But...but you deserve more,” Damien said. “God, you deserve more than me, Roman. You deserve someone who knows what to say for a stupid wedding. You deserve someone who you truly love. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me.”

“I’m not,” Roman whispered, smiling sadly. “I’m very happy I’m stuck with you.”

Damien blinked, and tears fell down his cheeks. “You’re too kind,” he breathed. “You get carted off, forced to be married to a man you’ve barely met, and you could have done anything else. You could have fought, you could have wanted nothing to do with me and told me as much, you could have run away in the middle of the night or you could have made plans to leave me at the altar. And yet...you treated me with kindness, and you still do. You’re so, so impossibly kind, and I love that about you and I can’t—” Damien took a breath. “I can’t even admit to myself how important you are to me.”

“Damien, it’s okay,” Roman said, sitting down on the table. “Something tells me you’re just very tired. If you sleep now you can probably think better in the morning, you can come up with the vows then.”

“I have—I have vows. Now. I wrote from my heart like Mother suggested and I came up with something. I just...I don’t want you to see, I don’t like them,” Damien rambled. “I don’t want you to see how desperate I am for positive attention, how much I can act like a lovesick puppy. I...” Damien swallowed. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I? You’re just a hallucination. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I should...go to bed. Because I don’t remember walking there. I couldn’t have gone to bed, I must have actually fallen asleep in the library.”

“Damien, this isn’t a dream,” Roman said. “You’re tired, sure, but I’m awake and so are you.”

“Oh,” Damien said softly. He cleared his throat, sat up straight, and gathered up his papers. “Either way, I should go to bed and so should you, my dear.”

Roman blinked at the sudden change in Damien’s demeanor. “Damien,” Roman said, putting his hand over one of Damien’s. “What’s wrong?”

Damien stood sharply, retrieving his hand. “It doesn’t matter, I’m just tired,” he said with an unconvincing smile. “I just need to go to bed, I think.”

“Okay,” Roman said reluctantly. “But if you need to talk, you know where to find me, all right?”

“All right. Good night, my love,” Damien said, kissing Roman’s forehead and leaving the room in one swift moment.

Roman watched him go in shock. Had he just said...? He had. He had called Roman “my love” instead of his usual “my dear.” He must be sleep deprived, Roman thought. That was the only explanation that made sense. Damien had been convinced he was dreaming. There was no way that he actually meant that.

Just like there’s no way you’re in love with him? a niggling voice in the back of his head nagged at him. Face it, honey, you’re smitten, and he likes you too.

“That can’t be true,” Roman muttered to himself. “What could a guy like Damien possibly see in me?”

He hated to say that, because everyone around him would respond with something along the lines of, “Where do I begin?” but when he was all alone, he felt safe enough to release the question into the air.

But driving himself mad over this would get him nowhere. Without thinking, his legs moved forward through the library, back out into the hallway, where Damien’s figure was retreating. “Damien,” Roman called softly.

Damien paused and halfway turned, and Roman jogged up to him. A thousand questions were bubbling up in his throat, but he couldn’t get any of them out. Instead, he said, “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

“Oh,” Damien said simply. “If you let me return the vows to my room we can find somewhere to sit and talk until you feel better?”

Roman smiled and nodded. “That would be nice,” he simply said.

“Follow me,” Damien said.

They walked together to Damien’s room, but Roman didn’t enter after Damien went in, sensing that he might not be that welcome in Damien’s space yet. Damien yawned as he exited the room and Roman felt a little bad. “If you want to sleep, you can. I’m sure I can find someone else to keep me company,” Roman said.

“Nonsense, my love, I can stay with you for at least another hour before I become too tired to function tomorrow morning,” Damien waved off.

“Why do you do that?” Roman asked as Damien started walking.

“Do what?” Damien asked.

“You called me ‘my love’ twice in the span of ten minutes,” Roman said.

Damien frowned. “I did?”

“You did,” Roman confirmed. “Usually you call me ‘my dear’ rather than ‘my love.’ I’m just a little confused.”

“Oh,” Damien said softly. “I just...I mean, I assumed we were close enough, I guess...my mind skipped to ‘my love’ because I’m tired and I consider us good friends.”

Roman’s heart sank without warning. “You call your friends ‘my love’?” he asked skeptically.

“I call my friends pet names, yes,” Damien said. “Admittedly, ‘my love’ is a new one, but I’m very tired. If you don’t like it, I can stop...”

“No!” Roman said, just a hair too quickly. “No, I like it. I was just confused.”

Damien nodded and sat down on a flight of steps, and Roman joined him. “I am sorry if I’ve caused you any discomfort while you were here,” Damien said. “I want only the best for you, Roman.That includes me being the best man I can be.”

Roman stroked Damien’s cheek. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” he said to Damien with a soft smile.

“You’re too kind, my dear,” Damien said, leaning into the touch just enough for Roman to feel it.

“I would argue that would be you, but okay,” Roman said with a small laugh.

Damien smiled, leaning against the wall. “God, I’m exhausted,” he breathed.

“Same,” Roman yawned. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Not just yet,” Damien said. “Right now, I just want to spend some time with you.”

“All right,” Roman said.

They lapsed into silence. Roman rested his head on Damien’s shoulder, enjoying the sensation of another warm body against his own. Damien’s breathing was steady, syncing up to Roman’s. Roman took a deep breath and sighed, and subtly nuzzled into Damien’s side. Damien didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders. The sound of guards walking through the castle below them lulled Roman into a light sleep, eyes slipping closed without him telling them to do so.

When he woke up next, it was to the sound of snickering above him. “Oh, this is priceless,” a familiar voice murmured.

Roman stirred and blinked awake. “Mm. Virgil?”

“Good morning, Your Highness. Came up here for my morning rounds only to find out that you and Damien have been secretly cuddling for hours.”

Roman sat up, noticing he had somehow moved from Damien’s shoulder to his chest while he was asleep. Damien’s eyes fluttered beneath his eyelids and he groaned. “Wha’s happened?” he slurred.

“How long have you two been here?” Virgil asked.

“What time is it?” Roman asked.

“Four forty five, just about,” Virgil said.

“Then about two and a half to three hours,” Roman replied, standing up. “Oh, my back is gonna kill me.”

Damien swayed to his feet. “I’m going to bed for a few more hours,” he said definitively. “Good night, my love.”

“Night, Damien,” Roman said, allowing Damien to kiss his temple before he left.

Virgil was smirking at Roman, and Roman rolled his eyes. “No, you did not miss a love confession, Virgil. I just got upgraded to ‘close friend’ in Damien’s books, apparently.”

“Very close friend, if he kisses your temple and calls you his love,” Virgil snickered.

“Shut up and leave me alone if you’re just going to tease me,” Roman said. “Unless there’s some pressing matter or another, I’m going back to bed too.”

“Oh, yeah, go get your sleep,” Virgil said. “You’re gonna have to talk to the justice of the peace this morning.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Roman groaned, waving to Virgil as he walked down the hall.

Roman stumbled to his room and face planted into the bed, falling asleep quickly, thoughts of cuddling Damien swirling in his head and putting a sleepy smile on his face.

Tag List:  @lunareclipse-13@sanders-sides-crofters@blushy-gigglee-mess@wannacrymetoo@kaytikitty@magicalspacepanunicorn@bootsinthesun@pricklyfish777@flowersanddinosaurs@leiasolo77@birdybabybird@enby-phoenix@luna–28@justagaygoose@the-prince-and-the-emo@fandomsandanythingelse@randommuffinyt@snekky-boi@thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot@twilight-trix@abby5577@escalatingtoofast@friendlyfacestabbing@remus-is-stinky@foggybanditdreampeanut@ghostskull300@sprinklestheditty@canvas-the-florist@askthesnake@samuel-the-gay@determination-saved@juicy-cashew@demidork84@why-should-i-tell-youu2@nerd-in-space@aphriteblack@loganpatton@lilbeanblr@kittyboof8@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch@sanders-trash-4ever@hamilspntrash@swords-and-kittens@phantomfander@narniasfinestavengingsociopath@rjmeta@ambersky0319@anni-cat-flower@idosanderssidespromptssometimes@nafsbluebery@redisawerewolf23@voidvirgil@msu82@angstyfanfiction

[kd-holloman]

First Line Tag Game!

I was tagged by the wonderful @writingamongther0ses! Thank you so much! As much as I’d love to use my first lines from Oh, Hell, they aren’t that great. So, I’m going to give the first lines of The Traveler’s Gift!

Chapter One:

Jerry Reubinault knew he was going to die.

Chapter Two:

A dizzying array of colors flashed behind his eyes as his head hit the pavement. The sharp sting of asphalt cut through the muted sensation of his limbs as his elbow scraped across the ground.

Chapter Three:

Louis had been in the twenty-first century for six days and he liked Rodney. No matter how bad things got, he always looked at the bright side of things. If it was raining he’d look up at the sky and say, “We could be baking in the sun.” If they were hungry he’d say, “That hunger means we’re still alive.” If someone shouted obscene things at them through their car window he would say, “Sometimes people need to vent.”

Chapter Four:

The first thing Louis learned about the man running the O’Shea mafia was that his parents must have hated him. His honest-to-God name was Rick O’Shea. The second thing he discovered was that Rick had inherited his father’s reign at a fairly young age.

Chapter Five:

Louis tossed what little remained of his cigarette to the glass and pebble strewn pavement. It bounced, sparked, and rolled to a stop. He couldn’t sit beneath the overpass, breathing in the stink of exhaust fumes for another minute. “I’ll be back in the morning, Rodney.”

Chapter Six: 

Louis couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming. Everything felt far away, but simultaneously too close. If he held his hand up in front of his face he couldn’t tell how far away it was from his nose. His palm was blurry. The lines creasing his skin reminded him of smudged ink on a freshly written letter.

Chapter Seven:

Drip, 347. Drip 348. Drip 349.

Chapter Eight:

“What do you say?”

Chapter Nine:

Louis paced his cell. He had no way to entertain himself. So, he spent his time wandering around aimlessly from corner to corner. He was growing frustrated.

Chapter Ten:

Hours passed. At least, it felt like hours. It had to have been hours because Louis’s head no longer felt like it was full of wet cement and he could slog his way from one end of the room to the other without tripping over his damned feet.

Chapter Eleven:

For the first time since his arrival to the twenty-first century, Louis finally had the chance to experience it without being hurt, drugged, or homeless. It gave him the opportunity to explore the era the way he wanted. He got to try technology he’d never dreamed of. Things had changed dramatically in the past ninety-something years. The way people talked, listened to stories, and enjoyed music had all changed. He was just now becoming familiar with the technology and trying it out for himself.

Chapter Twelve:

“My, oh, my. Don’t you clean up nice.”

Chapter Thirteen:

Louis liked a lot of things. For instance, he liked strawberry jam on his toast, he liked to watch people, and he liked that he had hundreds of options for television at his disposal. He also hated a lot of things. He hated menthol cigarettes, raw onion, and listening to some palooka talk himself up when he was really full of shit.

Chapter Fourteen:

The blood on the plastic was so thick and dark it seemed black.

Chapter Fifteen:

Almost a week after [Redacted]’s death, Louis sat at the table and played solitaire. It was a game that required just enough thought that it kept him from hearing the horrible wet sound as [Redacted]’s heart had been ripped from his chest.

Chapter Sixteen:

The precinct smelled of old coffee and body odor.

Chapter Seventeen:

The benefit for the police department was a formal affair. It consisted of wrinkle-free navy tablecloths, white-linen napkins, crystal long-stemmed glasses, and some of the city’s wealthiest people pretending to get along for just a few hours as they shamelessly donated obscene amounts of money to the cause.

Chapter Eighteen:

By the time Louis had cleaned up Slater’s mess, both he and Ardford were long gone. He asked the bartender where he’d gone and he’d been pointed in the direction of a side door not too far from the bar.

Chapter Nineteen:

Slater stood in front of Louis. “If you didn’t have bad luck, you wouldn’t have any at all. What happened?”

Chapter Twenty

Louis went straight to his bedroom when he got home. He didn’t think he could stand the metallic stink on his clothes for another minute. He stripped out of his shirt. The blood splattered down its front had dried a burgundy-brown color.

Chapter Twenty-One

“You’re kind of a hypocrite, y’ know that?” Louis asked. He juggled bags of Thai takeout while Damien was slurping from a box of noodles as they walked. “You’re always talking about eating healthy and cooking at home, but you’re the first person to suggest eating pizza, tacos, or whatever this stuff is.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The act of spying was to observe furtively.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The following afternoon Louis sat elbow-to-elbow with Slater and Damien at Rick’s dining room table.  The conversation was a murmur. There was too much underlying tension for it to grow and swell. It felt like the dry, burning, heat of summer being cut with the sharp chilling breeze of a cold front before a nasty storm. Nobody knew why they’d been called together, but Louis had a good feeling that it had to do with [Redacted]’s betrayal.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Louis had never been one for waiting. He had never wanted to wait for his punishments as a kid. He had always wanted them to be over as quickly as possible. He hadn’t wanted to wait for Christmas because excitement had him eager to tear into the brown wrapping on his gifts as soon as possible. He’d hated patrolling the trenches in France because he had known an attack was coming, but had hated holding his breath, waiting for it to come.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Have I ever told you that you’re annoying?” Slater asked. It was the night of the Quench delivery and he seemed unconcerned as he sat on a crate. He kicked the wood beneath him with the heels of his red and white Chucks.

Chapter Twenty-Six:

The dark silence of the night pressed heavily around him. The flickering of the votive and tea light candles were the only source of light in the church. It made the shadows seem darker, more ominous, alive. They made the watchful eye of Christ behind the pulpit seem even more damning.

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

[Redacted]’s parents held a quiet funeral for their son a few days after his death; at least, that was what Louis had been told. He hadn’t attended. None of them had.

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

“I’m out of coffee and this is stupid,” Slater complained. “This is bitch work. I don’t do bitch work.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

The next night, Louis found himself standing across the street from Tito’s Pizza.

Chapter Thirty:

  Louis’s head was throbbing to each knock on the door. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. Pain jolted him awake as his arm touched the bruised and tender flesh of his swollen eye. He swore and sat up.

Chapter Thirty-One:

Louis wasn’t a fan of spiders. They had too many legs, too many eyes, and moved too damned fast. He hated them when they touched him and hated it even more when he found them in the shower.

Chapter Thirty-Two:

“What did you mean when you said Rick had fooled you before?” Louis asked. He checked his gun to make sure it was full of rounds and made sure he had enough spare ammunition in his pocket. He knew Deuce wouldn’t be stupid enough to do a job empty-handed. Especially, knowing that Rick was looking for him.

Chapter Thirty-Three:

“Louis? Wake up.” Clammy fingers pressed against his cheek.

Chapter Thirty-Four:

Louis’s life was spinning out of control again. He was lost. Knowing that Slater was in the bowels of the hospital while he was confined to the waiting room felt wrong. And there was nothing he could do to change it.

Chapter Thirty-Five:

All it took was a jump a few blocks from the apartment building and a quick check of the junk mail in the mailboxes on the front of the duplex porch to figure out which one belonged to Wes the Weasel.

Chapter Thirty-Six:

Louis didn’t have anywhere else to go. So, after Slater was settled into his room at the hospital, he curled up in one of the chairs in the corner of the room and let himself fall asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

That night, when the nursing staff told Louis visiting hours were over, Slater insisted that he stay.

Sorry for the long read! I’d like to tag (with no pressure): @howdy-writes, @littlerothridinghood, @gloriafrimpong, @gwens-fiction, @goblingraveyard, @vivian-is-writing

[incubae-fics]

Seduce Me AU! Diana And Malix

My previous HC post only mentioned the boys and how they are etc. This one will go into how Malix and Diana come to play as well as their intentions and reasonings. Their intent towards the player will differ depending upon who they are falling in love with, at least mostly in Malix’s case. Diana will have the same intent, which is to get the boys back, but she goes about it differently. I gave her a bit of a bigger role for more impact, that way her switch up in SM2 has a bit more meaning. I like her in canon but only in SM2. Her absolute power in the first game irked me, but however I do understand she’s a demon and therefore not so easy to touch, yknow?

I’d also like to add that I’d somewhat change how the Mansion is obtained by the player and the boys. The sad death is the same, however the boys are hit harder by it. As the Grandfather was the only one to treat them with genuine care and got to know them in their short chats as well as with traveling with them. I’d want to have it where the player never got to know him well due to distance or his own busy schedule, but that love was there. It saddens the player but not as painfully as the boys. The house is left to the player in the will, as the Grandfather had some sense it’d help them all someday. 

Something in him wanted them all to meet, and he even told them of you and that if you ever lived here that he hoped they’d protect you, but he just never got to see it himself. Having it set this way makes more sense for the boys.. Irritation towards the player. It’s a shitty reason of course, but it is a reason. One that could be rational to grieving people. Like.. why are you here?? You didn’t know him like they did?? You only knew him through short talks, how dare you move in here.. (there would be an option to not do so, but then nothing would come of it. There would be an option to try to sell, but since James comes into the company bc the Grandfather left it for him and not his greedy son, he’ll lawyer up somehow to fight it. He wants the home to stay as is.)

Anyways, leggooo..

Malix;;

Malix isn’t after the boys for any type of turf reasons. He’s after them solely for rep. Word spread around that the Demon Lords ‘precious’ sons have left the Demon World. One of them being the son that carried most of his brute genes. Said son is Sam, the meanest brute the Demon World has ever known. More than anything, he wants his head, wants the reputation of being the devil that slayed the Demon Lords brutal son. Of course, others want such a rep, some want revenge, but none are quite crazy enough to do so. That said, unless Sam is players love interest, they are mostly safe from him. Mostly.

If you develop some sort of budding relationship with Sam (bc by the time he finds them, that's where the relationships would be at, just budding), you become easy bait.

At the time, the guys have their guards down. Simply bc instead of crashing into the home, it was given to them, along with the player.

The player is the sole head of house, and so as long as they didn’t try to sell the mansion, they are generally in good standing with them all.

Malix will make his presence known by busting into the home, like in canon but not after a forced party. (I’m not putting in any type of father issues in here for the player bc everyone has different father/mother relationships etc. Keeping it open.)

He just shows up and attempts something, but they laugh it off and wipe the floor with him. They think of him as no threat.

Despite having been abused and being separated, they still knew how to defend themselves. Living in a world like that makes it a requirement should you choose to want to live.

Damien was taught by Sam, simply bc he’d started getting locked up more often and had to teach him so he’d survive until he was freed or escaped.

So Malix is written off as nothing, which royally pisses him off.

If the player helps or says something to add fuel to it, they become a target, an even bigger one if he notices Sam protecting them.

If player is protected by another, or just all, then they’re just a target. He’ll try to jump them somewhere only to be interrupted due to someone else being nearby. Then their guards go up.

After that, the boys take precautions and go out of their way to get rid of him.

If the player has something with Sam, they are kidnapped. They got knocked the hell out and taken away.

His mistake is not tying them up, player gets the choice to bust his face in some since his powers don’t work on them if they have enough energy.

However they grow tired and must call for Sam.

Once summoned, he pauses, then looks to player and says “Look away and cover your ears.”

Sam then goes absolutely apeshit, the rage in the air is suffocating. He brutally beats Malix out of anger.

Both at himself and Malix.

Himself for letting you be harmed and not paying more attention to Malix when he could.

Malix because he had the audacity to touch you.

Rip Malix but not really, we mostly hate you dude. See you in SM2 only to die again.

Sam, once finished, is a little angry at you. 

Why didn’t you call sooner? Why would you attempt to fight him?? You almost DIED! Do you know what he’d do if he lost you?!

Sam ends up holding you for the first time and for a long time. Just a big squeezing hug with murmured apologies for getting devil blood on your shirt.

He ends up hovering for a bit.

As for the others? They do too.

However if you’re not kidnapped, they just keep an eye on you and let you know once he’s no longer a threat.

They won’t tell you, but they have killed him

A lowly devil would never be a true threat to them or anyone they cared for.

Sorry not sorry Malix.

Diana;;

Diana’s story remains mostly the same. There is option to romance her, but I never did it and so I’m not throwing it into my au bc I never took her route. I also never let her have the boys lmao fuck you bruh. The changes are that she was in a neighboring kingdom. She visited often bc she was promised to James to unite their kingdoms. Also for protection. Her kingdom at the time could not fight the DL and so, a deal had to be made. Diana had no qualms simply bc she was sure it was expected of her and truth be told, she liked something in James. Maybe it was the everstaying look of calm on his face, despite the horrific abuse, maybe it was the well of emotions in his golden eyes. She was young and she’s not sure why. They only ever had short convos. Always her leading them with happy ideas for their marriage in the future. 

A marriage not wanted on James end but he never said so. He was already dealing with much bigger monsters at the time the deal was spoken of. She was a secret witness to their abuse, and although it.. Hurt her in a way, she was sure the marriage would save them all. James would be king and could change everything. She wasn’t fully aware that James was just a puppet for the Demon Lord and that the others were fated to early deaths at his hand. The marriage was mere months away- and then suddenly her world was falling apart. The boys were gone, her family was being threatened by the DL’s irrationally blinding rage. She had to get them back or lose her family.

This makes her very desperate. She tracks them, forces her way into the human world, killing a human in the process. She’s never even killed a demon, which under certain circumstances in their world is allowed. A human? The Angels would have her head if she was found out so she hides for some time.

When she does come back, she goes for James first. She needs answers. She needs reasons.(However this occurs months after Malix. Putting them too close together would make it harder for her to slip in. They’d be on their guard.)

She gets nothing. She gets cold indifference. Her family is at stake! Her life! Doesn’t he care?

“No. You didn’t care about us.You wanted a crown and a throne and nothing more. I am not yours to have.”

It’s true. She knows it’s true, she’s been selfish- but something inside her tells her she doesn’t care. Some other force compels her to rage about it, to get nasty about it.

So she does, she leaves to dig up dirt or to try to seduce one of the others into following her.

She digs up dirt if she notices the player around James. Some irrational jealousy stirs up. She hates it. 

What is she jealous of? She has someone back home who would do anything for her, why bother?

She doesn’t know but it fuels her to dig into James. To get a reaction- to break his hopes and dreams of this world. To break him.

“Demons don’t love. You won’t be loved, Rae-”

“Do NOT call me that. You have not right to be so familiar- you’re not my family and I hardly ever spoke to you.”

“You will never belong here- you will never be forgiven for that hurt you’ve caused. Rae-”

And that's when James grabs her by her neck, “I will never go with you, you absolute lowlife. You beg and plead and expect me to answer. Where were you when we were begging and pleading, huh?! WHERE WERE YOU?! Playing pretend in your own dreamland! Get out of my home NOW!”

And that’s the last he sees of her. However her words still hit hard. James backs away from the player for sometime. 

It only puts a dent in the relationship if the player does not respect his subtle but easily understood hints for space.

Diana is only really meant to the player if they show an interest in James. She’ll guilt trip harder and threatens death until she is found out by James himself or someone else.

James/ the others get rid of her. However it’s hard due to her escaping and gaining more energy to return. She’s around for a few weeks at the least.

Now if the player is interested in someone else, she just guilt trips them and pleads for help. Think of her family and her life.

She preys on how little the player knows of the boys suffering. She’s aware how wrong that is.

However at this point, player knows enough to not feel bad. They can choose to help her, but it permanently damages any budding relationship with any of them.

Why?

Because you’re basically saying you do not want any of them. You’d rather they go with her and be put back into that dark place, all because of misplaced guilt for a succubus you barely know.

Damien is the most hurt because he becomes friends with the player first. This hurt is worse if he has feelings for the player.

Now of course, feeling bad for her situation is normal. However Diana chooses the wrong solution.

She’d get better results if she asked them to help her kill the DL and take over. She has no army to do so though and something compels her to not think of it anyway.

If her guilt trip fails, she gets angry and then pursues the other boys a second time. Digging her venomous words where she can, putting a halt in any budding relationships for a short time.

She messes with their heads and they do retaliate. Only James, Sam, and Erik get physical though, because she hits their deepest insecurities right on the head.

Matthew and Damien simply fight with their own words, gaining her rage and angry leave.

She does leave eventually, and does take the players energy, just not through a kiss. Her kiss made me uncomfortable (and not bc shes not a cute guy)

With Sam, player was able to hit his stupid ass

Erik was demonstrating in canon, but in AU he doesn’t bc nah bro (and ngl I’d have fucking decked him too)

Diana aims to take all their energy. Not enough to help. Not to demonstrate.She just takes all to escape. So in AU I’d rather she takes it through some other power.

Manages to steal into some object for later use, and the boys find them passed out on the floor later on.

Diana isn’t seen until much later, vastly different vibes coming off of her.

She is as she should have been. The power compelling her has somehow lost its hold..

So that’s Malix and Diana. You’re litty if you read this far. I have more HC’s on the boys and their demon forms etc, but for now I wanted this done. I don’t have anything on Naomi or Suzu or anything. They are nice in canon and I have nothing against them, I just don’t see what to do with them in AU.They could just be people the player met and became friends with or smth. Not sure, but yeah. I might fic some stuff later so be on the look out <3

[mancalledmxlice]

Honorable Mentions: Somebody to Love- Queen//Fernando- Abba

War Pig: Damien Blackwell Playlist

Option 1: we’re looking to highlight the differences between your canon mythology character and the oc you’ve created and built around them. for side a, include songs that apply to the myth, for side b, songs about your own character

Side A: Deimos

War Pigs- Black Sabbath

Time will tell on their power minds Making war just for fun Treating people just like pawns in chess Wait 'till their judgment day comes, yeah!

Another Way Out- Hollywood Undead

You better run, better run, better run, yeah I'm coming after you When you're sleeping at night, yeah there's nothing you can do There's no place you can hide cause I'm coming after you

Street Fight- Adam Jensen

Try to break me, but I can't break I'm a bad dream, and you can't wake Nothing's gonna kill me, nothing's gonna stand in my way

Everything Black- Unlike Pluto

In a nocturnal state of mind Children of the night But it's the only way alive This black hole's pulling me inside Of this black heart, this black soul Underneath this black, black sky

Brain Damage- Pink Floyd

The lunatic is in my head The lunatic is in my head You raise the blade, you make the change You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane

Look What You’ve Done- Jet

Give me back my point of view 'Cause I just can't think for you I can hardly hear you say What should I do, well you choose

Gladiator- Zayde Wolf

Let me back it up to the start of the climb Faced with an army of vipers and lions I had to keep on reaching up 'cause it was my time To tear down the kingdom and call out the liars

Can’t go to Hell- Sin Shake Sin

Turn that fear into a souvenir The world is waiting and the hour's near So if you need a reason, if you need a sign Open up you're eyes, you'll see they stole your water, turned it into wine

Metal Health (Bang Your Head)- Quiet Riot

Bang your head Wake the dead We're all metal mad It's all you have So bang your head And raise the dead

Ain’t No Grave- Johnny Cash

Well, look way down the river And what do you think I see I see a band of angels And they're coming after me

Wreak Havoc- Skylar Grey

I herd 'em like cattle Cause I'm surrounded by cowards And I don't give a fuck when I walk into battle And that's why I got all the power I'm where you wanna be Ain't no one ahead of me All of my enemies made a decision It's better to follow me

Who Are You, Really- Mikky Eiko

Now you're moving idle and you say you're alone Suspicious that the string is moving your bones We are the fire, we see how they run See how they run, lift me higher, let me look at the sun Look at the sun and once I hear them clearly, say

Bad to the Bone- George Thorogood and the Destroyers

The head nurse spoke up Said "leave this one alone" She could tell right away That I was bad to the bone

For What It’s Worth- Buffalo Springfield

Paranoia strikes deep Into your life it will creep It starts when you're always afraid Step out of line, the man come and take you away

Ohio- Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young

Gotta get down to it Soldiers are cutting us down Should have been done long ago.

God’s Gonna Cut You Down- Johnny Cash

Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand Workin' in the dark against your fellow man But as sure as God made black and white What's done in the dark will be brought to the light

Side B: Damien

War- Edwin Starr

Oh, war has shattered many a young man's dreams Made him disabled, bitter and mean Life is much too short and precious to spend fighting wars these days War can't give life, it can only take it away

Hurt- Johnny Cash

I wear this crown of thorns Upon my liar's chair Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair

Pretty Fly For a White Guy- The Offspring

Friends say he's trying too hard And he's not quite hip. But in his own mind He's the—he's the dopest trip.

Funny the Way it is- Dave Matthews Band

The way your mouth feels in your lover's kiss Like a pretty bird on a breeze, or water to a fish The bomb blast brings the building crashing to the floor Hear the laughter while the children play war

For Your Love- The Yardbirds

For your love, for your love I would give the stars above For your love, for your love I would give you all I could

My Mirror Speaks- Death Cab For Cutie

And when my mirror speaks it never minces words 'Cause these eyes don't shine half as bright As they used to do and they haven't for quite a while

Sleep is for the Weak- The Dreadnoughts

Baltic is at your back You'll head towards the Black Where the river's rising high All along the countryside Enter the hyenas

Viva La Vida- Coldplay

Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes Listened as the crowd would sing, "Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!" One minute I held the key Next the walls were closed on me

Wish You Were Here- Pink Floyd

How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, Running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here.

Rock and Roll- Led Zepplin

It's been a long time since the book of love. I can't count the tears of a life with no love. Carry me back, carry me back, carry me back, baby, where I come from.

Dear God- XTC

Dear God, sorry to disturb you, but I feel That I should be heard loud and clear We all need a big reduction in amount of tears And all the people that you made in your image, See them fighting in the street 'Cause they can't make opinions meet

When You Were Young- The Killers

He doesn't look a thing like Jesus But he talks like a gentleman Like you imagined When you were young

Train in Vain- The Clash

Now I got a job But it don't pay I need new clothes I need somewhere to stay But without all these things I can do But without your love I won't make it through

Wish I Knew You- The Revivalists

Oh I hope you don't mind We can share my mood Two strangers in the bright lights I wish I knew you I wish I knew you Oh I wish I knew you when I was young

The Weight- The Band

I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead I just need some place where I can lay my head "Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?" He just grinned and shook my hand, "no" was all he said

Hard to Handle- The Black Crows

I have got some good old lovin' And I got some more in store When I get through throwin' it on you You gotta come back for more

Honorable Mentions

Somebody to Love- Queen

I work hard (he works hard) every day of my life I work 'til I ache my bones At the end (at the end of the day) I take home (takes home) my hard-earned pay all (goes home on his own) on my own

Fernando- ABBA

In the firelight Fernando You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar I could hear the distant drums And sounds of bugle calls were coming from afar

[knives-out20]

I Know What You’re Thinking, Just Kiss Already - Cliff Booth x Male!OC

Fandom: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)

Pairings: Bobby Brightside (OC) x Cliff Booth, StarBeep, DeepSpace, Platonic!Geep

Warnings: Swearing, Gay shit, Heavy flirting, Nobody has a collar kink bobby’s band is just experimenting with their style, 

Notes: Two shots in one day? Yea, I’m procrastinating a handful of school projects right now. Enjoy!

Dedicated To: @mori-ohs​

Bobby adjusted his choker, looking at Gene through pink heart-shaped sunglasses. “Gene, do I look pretty?” He giggled, twisting from side to side to let his skirt waft a bit.

Gene looked down at Bobby, with a straight face. “Yes.” He grunted.

Bobby clapped, excited.

“But Peep looks better” Gene pointed over at Peep, who smirked at Bobby.

“Suck it, Brightside” Peep teased, sticking out her tongue.

“Rude” Bobby dramatically groaned, walking away. He made his way to one end of the stage, by Cliff. “Cliffy, do I look pretty?”

Cliff put his hands on Bobby’s hips, thumbs stroking his exposed skin. “Beautiful” the blond answered, Bobby’s arms around his neck.

Bobby chuckled, taking off his sunglasses so that he could lean in and kiss Cliff.

Beep turned away from the sight, tugging what was around his neck. “I hate how it’s Bobby’s turn to wear a normal choker today” he whined.

Deep exhaled through his nose, cracking his neck. “What? Doggy think collar ugly?” He mocked, snickering to himself. “Don’t be mad that Bobby has balls that you don’t, big enough to make moves on men he wants.”

“Shut up.”

Deep trailed two fingers along his black collar, down to the O-ring that held the collar together. “I think my collar’s cute. Penelope has a choker like this, except the O-ring thing hangs from it, it doesn’t hold it together.”

Beep adjusted his top, admitting “Starchild actually told me he liked my outfit earlier.”

“Ooh?”

“Mhm. ‘It looks real good on you’.”

“Ow!” Deep exclaimed, eyes going wide in surprise. “He wants Benji’s body.”

“‘Benji’s body’? You’re gross.”

“You have low hope.”

“What are you two bumpin’ gums about?” A disembodied voice asked, the tone almost instantly recognizable at that point.

Deep spun around, his skirt spinning with him. “Ace!” He greeted. “Nothing, Benji was just bitchin’ ‘bout the neck stuff.”

“Aw, c’mon, man. Lighten up, you guys look good” Ace teased.

“And,”

“‘And’?” Ace looked intrigued. “There’s more?”

“Benji also happened to mention a certain someone saying his outfit looked real good on him” Deep added

“Ooh,” Ace’s eyebrows jumped. “Say it ain’t so.”

“But it’s so, Space Ace.”

Beep grumbled, sliding away on his heelies.

Deep scoffed, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. “What a guy, eh?”

“Yea, you can say so.”

Deep flattened out his skirt, fixing the bright bandannas on his wrists. He tilted his head up, gaze following the silver makeup around Ace’s eyes.

Ace’s eye caught onto the ring holding Deep’s collar together, and chuckled. He poked a finger through it, touching Deep’s bare neck. “Weird thing y’got there. What is it, a collar?”

“Yea. Beep over there was being a grumpy puppy over it. I like ‘em, personally. I personally feel like everyone has an invisible dog collar on ‘em, capitalistic rich people dragging us by the leashes.”

Ace blinked, pulling his hand away. “Rough.”

“I know.”

“You got much money on ya?”

“Just enough to get Missy ‘n’ me by, I suppose. No one in the band has as much money as Bobby- judging by his house, and the fact he’s juggling three jobs.”

“Three, really?”

“Yea. First came screenwriting, a childhood-stemmed thing. Then came this band. And most recently, modeling. He’s got the looks for it, that’s for sure” Deep explained, watching Bobby follow Cliff across stage like a lovesick puppy.

Ace watched them as well. “Is Cliff o’er there like...a reverse sugar baby?”

“Ha!” Deep laughed. “Nah, man, rats. Broke, yes. Used to live in a dumpy trailer behind some drive-in with his dog, before they moved in with Bobby. But the Buddies have known Cliff almost as long as we’ve known Bobby- except Monte over there, Bobby’s childhood friend. And ex-”

“Ex?”

“Yea, so is Damien. But that’s another story. Point is, we know Cliff. And Cliff ain’t a gold digger. He just drives around ‘n’ looks cool when he isn’t being somebody’s stunt double.”

“I’m learning more from you than I ever could in school, Deep.”

Deep laughed in an airy tone, shrugging. “I’m just yakking off, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, man” Ace ruffled his hair. “The more I know about who I’m sharing a stage with, the better, right?”

“I guess so” Deep agreed. “He could pull off a collar, too.”

“We could always ask Cliff-”

“Man-” Deep guffawed, shoving Ace’s arm. “Don’t do that to me, gross!” He fake-vomited, causing Ace to laugh.

“Drama Queen” Ace insulted.

“Well DUH, what do you think the ‘D’ stands for?”

Ace didn’t reply, but rather grew a sly, long grin.

Deep’s lips parted slightly, feet shuffling. “Nasty man.”

“‘Nasty man’?” Ace shook his head in disbelief. 

Deep licked his lips, dismissing the topic. He fixed the frills on his white top, feeling like- in Maria’s words- a ‘slutty pirate’. In his defense, a black dog collar, a frilly white button-up, some dark pants with smart holes in them, a couple bandannas on his wrists, and heeled black boots should fit the procedure pretty well, right? 

Maria was also able to do something with his face to make it look a bit dirty, but like strategically dirty.

Ace did help by messing up his hair, too.

Deep stretched his arms, Ace seeing his skeleton hand tattoos.

“That must’ve hurt” Ace commented, sucking his teeth.

“Ah, a common thing for tattoos” Deep held up his hands, clenching and relaxing his fists. “I look cool, though, don’t I?” He asked, tattoos reaching from his wrists to just below his fingernails. 

“Obviously, man” Ace scratched the back of his neck.

“Cooler than you?”

“Don’t push it, dog boy.”

“‘Dog boy’, eh?” Deep giggled, tapping his collar. “What, that the best you could come up with, Spaceman?” He teased.

Ace towered over Deep on his boots. He smirked, hooking two fingers around the ring on Deep’s collar and pulling Deep towards him. Ace looked directly down at Deep, their faces obviously much closer than ever before. “Would you prefer any other dumb nicknames?”

Deep’s eyebrows raised in interest, eyes going big. “Only if y’got any suggestions, Ace” he flirted, face slowly relaxing. Deep balanced himself on the tips of his feet, short hair falling back due to how his head was tilted directly upwards, at Ace.

Ace chuckled softly. “Our bands are collaborating, Derek. Everything has to be a team- if not partner- effort.”

“It takes two to tango” Deep reminded, finger gesturing between Ace and himself.

“Maybe so” Ace whispered, testing the waters that kept the border between flirting and playful banter with a buddy.

Deep felt a hint of a smile on his face, gaze up at Ace a gentle one, hopefully not openly loving. “Anyone ever tell you y’look weirder up close?” He joked.

“You lie, Derek” Ace poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, “it pains me.”

“Aw, rats, whatever shall I do to make it up to you?” Deep purred, tongue tracing across his teeth. 

“Could trail m’hands up your skirt like a girl.” Ace suggested, painfully unaware himself if he truly meant that as a joke or not.

Deep assumed it was the first option, and thought nothing of it. “You do that, and I’ll mess up your makeup” he told, two fingers trailing across the broad shoulders of Ace’s costume.

“Oh yea?” Ace asked, condescending.

The two stayed like that in silence, eyes and grins soft.

Beep broke the silence as he rolled by. “Quit flirtin’, you two. Soundcheck’s in five.”

Depp watched Beep slide off, and rolled his eyes. “Party pooper.”

Ace quickly pulled away, hands on his sides. “Y’got that right” he nodded.

The two looked at one another, feelings bubbling up from under their strange outfits.

Ace departed first. “Deep.” He nodded, turning to walk away.

Deep nodded back at him. “Space Ace.” He returned, the two parting ways on the stage.

[theashofwkm]

Mayor attorney with “No matter how hard we try, this will never work out for us!” please! End it however you want.

Of course!!

———

There’s an old storage closet on the first floor that isn’t really used. It’s towards the back of the building and the one on the front is easier and quicker to get to. No one uses the old one in the back.

Except for you.

When tensions bubble up too much at work, a day jam packed of meetings or paperwork or both, Damien will discreetly tell you to meet him there.

The things that happen there vary. Sometimes you see him with beautiful woman draped over him arm at ceremonies and banquets and you get jealous, want him to yourself. Sometimes he’s stressed from an irritating council member who’s fighting his new proposal and he’ll just rant, hold you close.

Those moments are rare. He hates dragging his relationship with you into work, but when you both work so often and so late, it is inevitable.

One day, your assistant brings you a folded sheet of paper, their brow furrowed. “This arrived on my desk for you, Y/N,” they say, “but I don’t know who it’s from.”

You take the paper gently, wondering if it’s from Damien like you think, or an anonymous note from someone else. “Thank you,” you say, waving them off. You wait until the door clicks shut before you open it.

It’s from Damien, scrawled messily to hide his handwriting in the code you’d developed. He wants to meet you in the closet in fifteen minutes.

You drum your nails on your desk and add the note to your trash pile, like it’s nothing important, ever cautious that someone may be peering at you through the windows.

Clicking through your schedule you see that you’re free. Sighing, you finish up the paper you were working on before standing.

“Jordan,” you call, stepping from your office, “take all of my calls for the next thirty minutes. I’m stepping out for a minute.”

“Alright!” They chirp, used to you leaving the office for a moment every now and than to catch your breath. It’s a habit you’ve been forced to keep up, even when you aren’t out to visit Damien, just so rumors have a harder chance of hitting.

You’ve had to do a lot of things to keep your relationship private.

Irritation bubbles within you, you had been in a good headspace, working swiftly in a way you usually don’t. It was just a good day, and you were enjoying the ease of it.

This get together with Damien would probably change that. He rarely called for meetings due to his wanting. He only called if he needed you and he only ever needed to talk. Your talks at work like that were never anything good.

He’s already waiting by the time you slip in, something that doesn’t happen because you’re always supposed to get there first. You sigh and lean your back against the door, watching how he turns and how his eyes narrow.

“Where were you?” He asks, voice soft, but doing nothing to hide the sharpness underneath.

“I had work to finish,” you reply, repeating words you’ve told him a dozen times, “I couldn’t just drop it all immediately. It’s too suspicious.”

He responds like he always does, which is awkwardly. He nods or squints at you before he continues to speak. “Alright.”

You sigh. “What did you want to talk about?”

He scratches at the back of his neck, stalling. “I won’t be able to make our date tonight. I was invited to dinner with a councilman, Mr. Lohan.”

You blink. You’ve been planning this dinner, rescheduling it over and over, for three months. He promised that tonight it would happen, no matter what. “And you accepted?”

He had promised.

“It’s not an optional thing,” he explains, hurriedly, stepping into your bubble. “It was just a formality. I need to go for my image, to keep him on my side. Re-elections are coming up soon, you know. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

He grabs your hands, but you don’t really feel it. “You promised to make it up to me by having dinner tonight.”

“I know,” he acquiesces softly, meeting your gaze guiltily. “But can’t we reschedule? Just this once?”

“It’s already been rescheduled.” You pull your hands from this. “Four times, at least.”

He winces, but doesn’t seem too surprised.

You sigh, shaking, gathering your courage. “We should just cancel the dinner,” you say, not bothering to argue over how a night with you is less important than a stuffy dinner with a councilman.

“What? But—”

“I don’t think this is working out anymore.” You swallow, watch how your words cause fear to sink into his skin.

He reaches for you, but flinches before he makes contact. “Y/N,” he says carefully, slowly, “what are you saying?”

“That no matter how hard we try, this will never work out for us!” Your eyes burn, and you blink as you look at him, your bubbled anger floating away with your statement. You expand on it softly. “We don’t work anymore, Dames. It’s too hard.”

“You...” he breathes hard, staggering, as he tries to compute what you’re saying. “You want to break up?”

You shake your head. This isn’t a want of yours — it’s the opposite, you love being able to call him yours, but only being able to do so to him is too steep a price. “No, but I think we need to. I can’t do this anymore.”

Averting your gaze, you fix it on his shoulder, the wall behind him. “The secrecy, the cancellations, the rescheduling that never works out.” You shake your head. “It’s too much.”

“I...” he flexes his fingers on his cane. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

You look at him and don’t try to hide your shock, but the numbness hides it well on it’s own. “How could I not? You’re my boyfriend and I can’t even have one dinner with you.”

His face crumbles at that and you can see the will to fight in him, but he is bare against your army. Defenseless.

He doesn’t have an argument.

He has one point to your pages of proof and evidence and past experience. One little bulletpoint, three words that barely mar the page.

He loves you.

In every fairytale, that is enough. Love conquers all, the hero gets the girl and the kingdom and they all live happily ever after.

There is no happy ending for you. He cannot have his kingdom and you.

“I— I’m sorry.” His eyes are seeping tears, his mayoral composure thoroughly cracked and lying at his feet, his heart not far behind.

His choice, obviously, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the safest bet in history to ever be made, the safest choice he could make, is that he chooses his kingdom over you.

He should, of course. Quantity over quality. This isn’t a romance novel where he abandons everything for you just to end up with it all. This is reality and he cannot have everything he wants.

Neither can you.

“Don’t be,” you tell him, stepping close. “It was my mistake too. Neither of us wanted to be the one to give up.”

Knowing how the world works doesn’t ease the shattering of your hearts.

Maybe, in another time, another life, another universe, you could love him and it wouldn’t be taboo. You wouldn’t have to hide in downstairs storage closets and you’d be able to kiss in front of whoever you choose.

In another life, you don’t have to hide. This isn’t that life, that time, that universe, so you press a chaste kiss to his cheek before you return to your office.

He’s late for his next meeting and you pretend you don’t know why.

The last thing you pretend about with Damien is that you didn’t break his heart. But, to be fair, he hadn’t left you much choice. He was breaking yours much slower.

You just brought about the inevitable before you were in too deep to give him up. You’re broken and bleeding, but you’ll heal. So will he, eventually. One day this will be a smart choice, a good move.

Today, though, it’s just a tragic end.

———

Woo! Last one! (Not counting the polishes one). It’s angsty and I would apologize except that’s 99.99% of my blog, so you shouldn’t really be surprised.

Also I low key like this one. Not that I didn’t like the others, but this one feels more realistic. Love doesn’t always fix all.

[null-whump]

Felix –– Part Seven

This is a series! Start here; Next.

Just one more part after this one in this little introduction series! I hope you guys are excited, because I sure am. If you haven’t seen it and are interested, I posted a character sheet/drawing of Felix here.

Warnings: Not much for this one, just a brief suicidal thought (as usual, please let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 3,045

––––––––––––––––

Varren left the muzzle on for three days, only taking it off to let me eat and drink once a day. He kept busy with the dragon in the cellar, though I didn’t know what he was doing to it. He never let me accompany him, always assigning me menial tasks whenever he ventured down the stairs. I didn’t understand his motivations, and I was afraid of what he planned to do with the poor creature; but I couldn’t ask, even if I had the courage to.

One of the many regular tasks Varren had assigned me was bringing food to the two human prisoners while they slept. He didn’t say it outright, but I knew he was keeping them isolated for a reason. He wanted them hanging in suspense, unsure of what would happen to them.

The fifth night after we captured them, I opened the cell door to see that the dark-haired man was awake. His head jerked up, and his impassive face turned to a glare as soon as he recognized me.

“You,” he hissed, standing to his feet. The rattling of his chains roused his companion, who sat up as well.

“So much of a coward that you have to wait to bring food until we’re asleep, huh?” The first man continued, still glaring at me.

I stayed silent, not trusting myself to answer. Instead, I stepped to the farthest spot their chains would allow them and crouched to set down the food and water.

“Hey!” The man yelled. “Answer me, you –“

“Damien!” The second man interjected, reaching up to grab his friend’s arm. “Wait!” He turned to look at me, and I saw anger in his eyes, but more subdued than Damien’s. He looked more sad than angry, and the realization made my heart clench painfully.

“Please,” the second man said. “Can tell us what the witch has planned for Zi – I mean – the dragon?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated. Surely Varren would be angry at me for speaking to the prisoners – but the spark of rebellion that refused to go away won over. “I don’t know,” I said, ignoring the little voice in my head that said I would regret this. “He hasn’t told me.”

“You must have some idea!” The first man, Damien, looked nearly desperate. “At least tell us if he’s hurt!”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him since we brought you here. I’m sure he’s still alive, but that’s all I know.”

The two men looked at each other, silently communicating something. Then the second man spoke.

“You don’t seem…to enjoy what you’re doing,” he said carefully. “Not like the witch does, at least.”

I clenched my jaw and looked away. “I don’t,” I said stiffly. “And – I’m sorry, truly – about – about your friend.”

I heard chains rattle and a faint noise from Damien, but his friend spoke quickly before he had a chance to say anything.

“Then why are you helping him?” He asked. “Why did you enter a contract with him? And why stay? Can’t your kind pass back into your own realm if you’re unsatisfied with your contract?”

“Not anymore,” I said bitterly. “He summoned me – some other way. I can’t leave, and I can’t disobey him either.” I forced myself to look back at them. “I promise, I would never have hurt your friend –“

“Her name was Zaria,” Damien cut in coldly. “Being sorry doesn’t change the fact that you killed her.”

I stood to my feet, familiar anger rising in me. “I told you, I didn’t have a choice,” I  hissed. “If there had been any way to avoid hurting her, I would have gladly chosen that option, but I can’t disobey him!”

“Why should we believe you?” Damien shot back, stepping closer to me, his fists clenched. “You’re the reason we’re trapped here!”

“Damien, please!” The second man stood and gripped his friend’s shoulder. “We should at least consider the possibility that he’s telling the truth, right?” He turned back to me. “If what you’re saying is true, then can you try to help us? Please, we’re worried about our friend and –” He cut himself off abruptly.

“I’ll do what I can,” I said. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to do much.”

“Thank you,” the second man said, sounding relieved.

I  began to turn to leave but stopped when he spoke again.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

I froze.

The man spoke again when I didn’t answer immediately. “My name is Magnus, and this is Damien.”

I felt my heart pound and clenched my fists to hide how much my hands were shaking. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t. “I – don’t have a name.”

“Everyone has a name,” Magnus pressed. “What do you mean you don’t have one?”

“I don’t,” I repeated, my heart twisting even as I said it. “Not anymore.”

Damien scoffed. “What, you’re going to let that damn witch take away your name too? You might as well roll over and give up!”

His words somehow ignited that fire of rebellion that I had nearly allowed to be extinguished. “Felix,” I said, with a newfound determination. “That’s my name.” A little nagging voice in my head told me I would regret that, but I refused to care.

It wasn’t until the next night that I worked up enough courage to speak to Varren. He spent every evening pouring over old texts and scratching notes into parchments, always keeping me kneeling beside his chair. He seemed to be in a good mood tonight, as far as I could tell…through our bond. I clenched my fists in my lap, wincing as the motion sent a wave of pain through my still-healing shoulder. I barely suppressed a shudder at the memory of Varren twisting the hot metal into my flesh – maybe this was a bad idea.

“Something on your mind, pet?” Varren’s sardonic voice jolted me from my thoughts. “Go on, you can speak.”

I swallowed hard, feeling my heart speed up and inwardly cursing my fear. “I – I was wondering, sir,” I began, struggling to control my shaking voice. “What – what are you planning to do with – with the dragon?”

The scratching from Varren’s quill stopped, and I could feel his eyes turn towards me. “Curious, are you?” He asked, sounding almost amused.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I muttered, annoyance seeping into my tone. It wasn’t until after I let it slip that I realized sarcasm was not something I had the luxury of using anymore. To my relief, Varren barked a short laugh in response.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, kitten,” he said, setting his hand down to ruffle my hair. I barely kept myself from flinching, still not accustomed to a gesture that had almost become normal. “As for the dragon…”

My eyes widened, and I forced myself to keep my eyes down, not betraying my excitement. I hadn’t truly expected Varren to give me an answer.

“I’ll have it under my control soon enough,” Varren continued. “It’s only a matter of finesse…but then it’ll be my obedient little puppet.” Varren gripped my hair and tilted my head up to face him. “Just like you,” he said softly, a smirk settling on his face.

He released his hold and I dropped my head down again, trying to calm my racing pulse. “S-sir,” I forced out, despite every instinct screaming at me to be quiet. “D-do you mean – you’re planning to use a binding spell?”

“Perhaps you’re smarter than you look,” Varren said. “I didn’t think what little brain you had could even comprehend what a binding spell is.”

I clenched my jaw, determined not to give any reaction to Varren’s taunts. Besides, I had more pressing concerns – if Varren really was going to use a binding spell, then I had to do something about it. Binding spells are dark magic that any respectable witch wouldn’t dream of touching. Of course, Varren was far from a respectable witch. If he went through with that spell, then it would be just like he said – the dragon would be his puppet…just like me. I couldn’t let that happen.

At exactly two hours to midnight, Varren extinguished the last burning candle in his study and disappeared behind the door to his private room, leaving me sitting on the floor outside. It was a routine he repeated every night, and I knew that he would exit the room at exactly seven in the morning and head directly down into the cellar where he kept the dragon. Which meant I had approximately nine hours to do what I was about to do.

I spent fifteen minutes straining my ears for any sounds from Varren’s room until I was certain he was asleep. I rose silently from my spot against the wall, and put my hastily crafted plan into action.

Getting the keys was the easiest part – Varren left them in the second drawer on the left in his desk. It was the rest of the plan I was worried about. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my shaking hand and unlocked the door to the cell that held the two humans – Damien and Magnus. Damien was awake when I opened the door, and he shook Magnus’ shoulder, rousing him instantly.

“What are you doing?” Damien asked, warily eyeing the keys in my hand.

“Something stupid,” I answered, crossing the room towards them. I reached for Magnus first, deciding that he was less likely to attack me upon being released.

“Are you – helping us?” Damien sounded shocked, which I felt was unfair. I said I’d do what I could, didn’t I?

I finished unlocking Magnus’ chains and went to Damien’s. “If this doesn’t work, I’m not going to be able to help you again,” I warned them. I didn’t bother to say what would happen if it did work – partly because I was too afraid to even think about it.

“Thank you,” Magnus breathed, rubbing his wrists where the chains had bruised him.

I unlocked the last of Damien’s chains and stood. “Come on,” I said, holding a finger to my lips. “But be quiet.”

I led them out of the cell and to the door to the cellar. As I unlocked it, I said, “One of you should go first. The dragon knows you, you need to keep him quiet.”

Damien and Magnus exchanged glances. “I’ll go first,” Magnus said.

“And I’ll go last,” Damien added. By the look he gave me, I could tell it was because he still didn’t quite trust me. I suppose I couldn’t really blame him.

Magnus stepped down into the cellar, with me behind him, followed closely by Damien. I heard a low growl from the dragon, and Magnus’ voice offering assurances. The basement was dimly lit, with two torches on either side of the doorframe. I guessed Varren used magic to keep them burning without filling the cellar with smoke.

I cautiously stepped into the large cellar room and the dragon snarled, shaking its chains as it saw me. I jumped back, nearly hitting Damien as he pushed past me.

“Easy, Zi!” Magnus hissed, raising his hands in a placating manner. “It’s alright, he’s helping us!”

‘Zi’ didn’t seem convinced, but he stilled his wings, quieting the chains, much to my relief. I slowly approached, eyeing the chains that wrapped around the dragon’s wings, face, and clawed feet. I knew Varren had enchanted them; I could only hope I was strong enough to break whatever spell he had used. I stepped forward until I was within arms reach of the dragon and hesitantly reached out a hand to touch one of the chains.

“Be ready to catch them when they fall,” I told Damien and Magnus. “If Varren hears us then it’s all over.”

I concentrated, feeling the spell that Varren had used. It was one I knew, but even so, it took nearly all my energy to dispel it. The chain flashed white-hot as I broke the enchantment, and I broke away with a gasp of pain. The chains began to slide onto the ground, and Damien and Magnus were barely able to muffle their fall. The dragon’s wings spread wide, and he thrust his head forward towards me.

I ducked my head, immediately assuming a submissive stance as the beast’s deadly teeth brushed inches from my throat, and it’s breath washed over me.

‘He could kill me,’ I realized, ‘and I wouldn’t care – I might even welcome it.’

I gasped as I felt the dragon’s horns, humming with electricity, brush against my forehead.

‘I am Zikaria,’ a voice hummed in my head. ‘You have done me and my companions a great service, familiar. Despite your transgressions…’ An image of the girl – Zaria – flashed through my head, and I winced. ‘I understand that you had no choice in the matter,’ Zikaria continued. ‘Therefore I do not hold you accountable for the crime. You have risked much by helping us, and I am in your debt. Thank you.’ He drew his horns back from my head, and I felt our mental connection disappear.

Damien and Magnus stood to the side, staring.

“Damn Zi,” Damien said. “I thought you were gonna eat him or something.”

Zikaria snorted and ruffled his wings.

“Come on,” I said, turning to the cellar door. “We can’t waste any more time.”

For a dragon, Zikaria was surprisingly silent when moving, and we were able to get outside without incident. My heart was pounding with exhilaration, and I was shocked beyond belief that we had managed to make it so far.

“You need to get as far away as possible,” I said, looking up at the yellow crescent moon that hung low in the sky. Still at least 6 hours until dawn.

“Zi, can you carry both of us?” Damien asked.

Zikaria gave a low growl of confirmation.

Magnus turned to me. “Can’t you come with us?” He asked. “You said the witch – Varren, was it? You said he summoned you without your consent. If you leave, then he can’t give you orders anymore, and you’ll be free of him, right?”

“I can’t,” I replied, regret twisting me apart inside. “He’d find me, and then he’d find you. You just need to get somewhere safe, somewhere he won’t be able to follow.”

“You want us to just leave you here?” Magnus protested. “Surely there’s something –“

“Just go!” I hissed. “If you don’t leave then this is all for nothing, and you won’t get a second chance!”

Magnus reluctantly turned to Zikaria, who was patiently waiting. The dragon nodded his head to me, a final farewell as I turned away.

“Hey.” Damien’s gruff voice caused me to stop and look back over my shoulder. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “Don’t let that witch win, you hear?”

I couldn’t bring myself to answer as Zikaria’s wings unfolded and lifted them into the sky, leaving me alone. I somehow forced myself to walk back to the door Varren was still behind and sat on the floor, as if I had never left. I knew I would never be able to sleep.

‘I did the right thing.’

The thoughts of what Varren would do to me spiraled through my head, and by the time morning came I felt on the verge of a panic attack.

‘I did the right thing, I did the right thing…’

Sometime during the night I had pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my head in my arms, and stayed that way until Varren’s door finally creaked open.

‘I did the right thing, I did the right thing, I did the right thing…’ the words had become a mantra in my head, the only thought that kept me from breaking down completely. I hugged my legs tighter against my chest as I heard his footsteps, not a foot away from me.

‘I did the right thing I did the right thing I did the right thing –‘

I could feel his anger, and it nearly overwhelmed me with how strong it was – he had never been this angry, nothing I had done in the time I had been here had made him so, so angry –

“Stand up.”

His voice was calm, the opposite of the raging fire I could feel inside him. I was too terrified to move, but it was an order, and I couldn’t disobey. I managed to stand on my shaking legs, my eyes locked onto the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

“Come.” Then he turned and walked, and I was forced to follow.

He didn’t say another word as he led me directly to the same cell that had held the recently escaped prisoners. He walked until I was standing in the center of the room, then turned back to face me.

“You’re afraid,” he said softly, and began slowly pacing around me. He stopped behind me and spoke again. “But not nearly afraid enough.” He resumed his walk until he was in front of me again, then placed a single finger on my temple. “When this is over,” he whispered, his voice chilling me to the bone, “You are going to wish you never even dreamed of disobeying me.”

A chill seemed to spread from where his skin came into contact with mine, and it spread to my whole body, taking root deep inside my chest. I gasped as the chill turned to heat, which turned to fire which turned to pain, and I didn’t even realize I was falling until Varren was holding me upright, and his other cold hand was on my face as he tilted my head to look directly into his eyes.

“I’ve been told this pain has made the greatest men crumble,” he said, his icy fingers tracing lines of fire down my face. “We’ll see how you fare against it.”

Then his hands were gone, but I barely registered falling to the floor, and the slam of the door was a distant sound in my ringing ears. Darkness began to close over my head, and I could only feel relief that unconsciousness would bring an end to the pain. If only that had been the case.

––––––––––

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[furaflictedhost]

An alternative WKM

I am not sure what else to say, besides I know AHWM just came out, but here. Have my strange alternate version of WKM. Brief warning, I am not a very good author, and I wrote this a while ago, but I hope you enjoy.

Content warnings: self harm, delusions, possible sanity problems, extremely old writing,if I missed any let me know

She couldn't remember the last time she saw him cry, and frankly, she didn’t care.

He was sobbing, and she just stood there, watching her husband cry at her feet.

Mark looked up at Celine, tears flowing freely from his sleepless and sunken eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

She shook her head, only to vanish into the darkness that surrounded them, leaving him alone, stranded in a nightmare.

Mark woke up screaming. He sat bolt upright, and clutched his pillow close to his chest, attempting to stop the free flow of tears on his face. His eyes darted around, catching sight of his room around him.

The silence was deafening as he climbed out of bed, throwing his robe on over the simple pajamas. One of the many turntables in the manor crackled to life, Mark putting a record on so the silence was shattered.

The window ledge seemed particularly inviting, so he opened the window, and sat there, looking out over the vastness of the garden and courtyard. The cold breeze that fluttered over him calmed the tenacity of nightmares, pale moonlight washing out his already pale skin.

“I can’t remember what it was like, Before all this madness.”

The demon perched next to him, watching over his shoulders.

“Why do you continue to stall? They deserve this.”

Mark closed his eyes, seeing only darkness, and fearing that the darkness would eventually cloud his judgement.

“Because I would rather she be happy then get revenge, And they were my childhood friends, they don’t deserve this.”

It vanished, leaving him alone once again. He glanced over the closet, thinking about the revolver that he kept in there. Perhaps...No. The knife would be a better option, not to mention quieter.

He rifled through his dresser, and pulling a dagger from its sheath in the boundless depths of his clothes. The ringing in his ears only getting louder as he pulled down the sleeve of his robe, exposing the skin of his wrists.

He slowly pressed the blade to his skin, relishing the sweet feeling of pain.

Mark woke up with the blade still sheathed in his lower abdomen. He can’t remember what happened the previous night. Sitting up, he discovered he was sitting in a pool of his own blood.

How was he not dead? Lucky, he guessed. The butler was shocked when he walked in, only to see Mark attempting to pull the knife from his lower chest, and mistook this for him stabbing himself. He panicked, and ran over, assisting him with the removal.

“What happened?”

Mark glanced up at him, and shrugged. “I tripped.” was his simple reply. He didn't know why he lied, it was bound to happen again. Benjamin bandaged the wound, and set to work cleaning the blood from the hardwood floor.

Mark didn’t bother changing, only heading to the downstairs balcony. The pool seemed welcoming, perhaps a swim later. He looked over the edge of the balcony, and out onto the small golf course.

He spotted a small figure dressed in tan standing out in the field. Mark quickly recognised the Colonel, and grimaced. He was fairly certain that it was he who ran off with his wife.

The Colonel walked over, having noticed the other man.

“Mark! How are things? I haven't seen you much since i heard about you and Celine, it seems you're always hold up in that manner of yours, or your room when I visit.” The flamboyant man slung an arm around his shoulders.

Mark replied simply “Im fine, everything's fine. Why are you here?”

WIlliam could tell nothing was fine, but by god, the man's wife just left him, so he didn't press.

“I'm here with Mr. Mayor.He wanted to come see you, and I can’t say no those adorable puppy dog eyes.”

Mark nodded, only to see Mayor Damien walk from the house, walking over to join them near the edge. His was twisting his cane between his hands as he spoke.

“There you are, Mark. I came to check on you. You have been very… antisocial as of late.”

Mark smiled. The one friend he felt had not turned on him. “Hello, Damien. Im assure you, im fine, just a little tired. How are you?”

Damien smiled, going to stand next to William. “I am well, actually. It's been an interesting last few weeks.”

Mark raised an eyebrow as William laced an arm around Damiens back as the Mayor spoke.

He played up his facade of being alright. “Well? Care to tell me?”

Damien smiled shyly. “Well, for instance… I am in a relationship now, along with the fact that I finally got the grant for the school that they have been asking for.”

Mark grinned, “and whos the lucky Gal?”

Damien glanced down. “Gent, actually. William and I are Dating.”

Mark nearly died all over again. “You and Will? Good job Will, But I didn't peg you for being bi.” A wry smirk spread across his lips

William grinned. “Im Gay, Dami is Bi.” He corrected.

Mark was extremely confused, but very happy at the same time. William cant have taken off with Celine if he was with Damien, because Damien would watch him like a hawk. He felt… a lot better.

He smiled, and patted Damien on the shoulder. “Your lucky.” he turned to William, and playfully said “Don't you hurt him, or i'll have to hunt you down, and I can't imagine what Celine would do to you.”

William laughed. “She would tear out my heart and feed it to me, I can tell you that much.”

They talked for a while, before it was eventually decided that the couple would be sleeping over. Mark sat on the balcony railing after they went inside. He felt the cool breeze once again, but it felt more calming than usual.

He turned, and nearly fell off the balcony. Celine was standing a few feet away, and was staring at him, worry evident on her face at him appearance.

“Mark? What are you doing?”

Mark slowly walked towards her, as if he was afraid she would vanish. He pulled her into a hug, that she graciously accepted.

“Hey, Mark? Why Are you crying? You knew I was coming back, right?”

Mark pulled away suddenly, looking at her square in the face. “I received a note in your handwriting saying that you didn't love me, and had found another man, William. I had reason to assume you weren't coming home.”

Celine looked shocked. “I left you a note, but it said nothing of the sort. I left to help Damien ease into his new relationship with William, and I knew I had to leave early, so I left you a note explaining that very thing, and that I would be gone for a few weeks.”

Mark started crying, hugging her close again. “I'm just glad your home…” She patted him, and then asked where the note was. He nodded, leading her up to his study. He dug through the notes for the most recent movie, only to produce a note, handing it to her.

She read the note, frowning deeply. “I fear this may have been tampered with by outside forces.”

Mark looked up at her from his chair. “Like what?”

She turned to him. “Have you been hearing voices around the house?”

He nodded, explaining the weird but tolerable house demon that kept bugging him at late hours.

Celine looked worried. “The Entity. This could be the reason.”

He shrugged, taking in the sight of his beloved Celine. There was silence between the two of them, but that was enough said. Unspoken words lead the two outside again. There was a nod from Celine, and Mark smirked, and grabbed her hand, leaping into the pool, dragging her in with him.

She laughed in surprise, and at the fact that Mark got tangled in his robe, before removing it for movement under water. She was swimming in a dress, so she wasn't in much better shape.

Mark laughed at her struggles, and swam under her, picking her up bridal style, and swimming to surface.

It was a pleasant swim, and the two were now laying under the summer stars. Laughter drifted up to the heavens as the two talked. Eventually the conversation died, Celine having had fallen asleep. The bigger man picked her up, and carried her up to their shared room, drying her off, and laying her on the king sized bed.

Instead of laying down next to her, he went and sat on the window cill, once again looking out over the garden. He smiled, and stepped down, closing the window. That time was over. He laid down on his side of the bed, cuddling up with the smaller female. He found himself falling asleep much easier that night.

Celine woke up the next morning cuddled into a very broad chest.

She started only to realize she was home, and that was just Mark. Celine laughed slightly, and poked him, waking the slumbering male. He snorted,and blinked blearily, looking down at her, a happy smile spreading across his face. “G’,morning, Celine.”

She smiled. “Good morning, Mark. You are very warm.”

He laughed, and let her move, pulling his arms back, only to have her pull him back.

“You aren't going anywhere, buster.” He laughed, snuggling up to her.

Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes as he inhaled her scent, it calming his nerves. He didn’t want to ever move, she was safe, happy and warm where he could be with her, and no one would take her from him.

It was perfect.

A little too perfect, hmm?

I don’t know how to link it, but there is a part 2 with...angst? Sort of.

[thesunshinebunny]

The incubi with an s/o that’s an Egyptian queen in their under realm

Uuuuuhhhh nice, I really like it. If I see you guys looooove it like I do, I’ll make a oneshot !!! Before starting, a little clarification. The S/O have their tattoos and skin in esmerald shade (sorry if it is not your favorite color) and can transformed into a snake of the same color, apart from being able to change the size depending on the situation; Aaaaand they can also transform into a black cat.

Let’s Goooooooo

_** **_

James

Both of tou met when The Demon Lord suggested that a marriage agreement between the two realms would facilitate the attainment of more power and strength.

James didn’t really like the idea of ​​marriage, and you less.

Buuut, keep a badasssss look you guys, no matter the circunstancies.

You and your parents traveled to his kingdom and let’s say the meeting between you five wasn’t the most pleasant.

Your parents accepting the offer, but only if you agreed to marry James, otherwise, there would be no agreement.

You on the other side, indifference to the whole situation, just wishing to get into the first library you saw and stay there until departure.

A shy and extremly nervous incubbaby James.

The Demon Lord angry AF, threatening to invade your kingdom if you didn’t accept marriage.

Aaaaanyway, bad first meetings to the side, you saw James again in the throne room when you were reading a huge book about war tactics.

“Who do you think you are, sittting comfortably on the king’s throne?”

That fucking imp, since you arrived he doesn’t leave you alone. Wherever you go, this bastard always has a criticism to make.

“It should be an action of treason, just waits until The Demon Lord knows about this, you’ll regr…”

“Leave her alone, NOW”

James to the rescue, anyone doubt it for a moment?

The imp left, cursing under his breath.

“Forgive his habits of meddling where they don’t call him, it’s quite irritating.”

“Yes, too much. It wasn’t necessary for you to came to defend me, if he had continued a little longer I would have injected my poison. He would have been paralyzed for a few days, damn spawn. ”

poison? James.exe stops working

You had to transform yourself so the poor baby could understand.

James.exe loves it

And when you stayed in a naga version, he may have discovered a new kink.

Leaving the “arranged” marriage, you really got along, even on the days you stayed in his kingdom, a little love story could’ve been born.

Heartbroken when you had to return to your kingdom.

The two of you gave each other a small memory to not forget.

You gave him a small jar with your poison to use in that unfortunate servant.

He gave you one of his favorite books.

More heartbroken to know he leaves with his brothers to the human world, leaving you behind, alone.

Erik

Both of you met in the gardens of your kingdom (strange thing, right?)

For some strange reason, which wasn’t an arranged marriage or an alliance, The Demon Lord decided to visit your parents’ kingdom, and with him he took James and Erik.

While The Demon Lord and his “favorite heir” had a private audience with your parents, Erik was allowed to roam the long, heated halls of the castle.

Your fucking kingdom is very veeeeeeeeeeery hot, what the hell !!

He found a large entrance with the rarest and most startling flowers he has ever seen and, out of simple and obvious curiosity, he passed the threshold, to end up up encountering an immense garden.

An incredible view if I say so myself.

And speaking of views … your emerald skin positioned in the middle of the garden could called the attention of any demon.

“Ah! Aren’t you a beautiful sight? I wouldn’t be bother to melt on your beautiful skin. ”

If looks could kill … your kingdom would already be at war with Erik’s.

“Is that how you generally introduce yourself? Without saying your name or bothering to know it of the other person with whom you blatantly try to flirt? ”

Matthew voice You’re going to need some cold water for that burn.

“I’m sorry, you’re totally right, it wasn’t my intention to disrespect you in that way. My sincere apologies ”

Okey-dokey, leaving bad impressions aside, let’s go to the good.

His stay in your castle made the free and boring time before your coronation more enjoyable.

Taking care of the garden.

Reading poems.

Allow Erik to participate in political meetings between the two kingdoms.

Long nights talking about everything and nothing.

You promised to see each other again on your coronation’s day.

Spend some time alone after so much stress.

Breakfast with the dawn.

Among many other sweet things.

But that meeting never happened.

Sam

First very bad impression.

At first he thought you were one of his damn father’s new wives. He received you with enough servers and put together a great banquet to introduce you to his sons.

With the cards on the table and Sam understanding you were actually going to be betrothed by one of the incubrothers, his angry face broke down.

Sam being Sam, he denied the option of being a suitor in that damn arranged marriage.

He tried to avoid you most of the time you were in the palace.

No speaking, No eye contact, nothing.

It started to be irritating.

He thought you were a silly princess who needed thousands of servants to survive and that your only goal in your pathetic life was to marry and be queen.

He had the audacity to say it in the throne room when you confronted him for being so rude.

He turned his back on you before you could even open your mouth and went to the door.

“I don’t think you know who you’re talking to”

You reached him in a second, like…how the fuck?

He then notice your esmerald naga form, with emerald snake eyes.

Fucking badass if he say so.

Maybe a little turn on.

He took his time to meditate and apologize. His pride didn’t let him looked at you in the eye.

He talks to you whenever he feels alone in this big fucking castle. He starts to enjoy your company too.

Loves when you become a snake to scare away his servants.

You may or may not let him get on your tail and take a quick and small walk in the … gardens? Back of the castle? Whatever

You are there when he need towreak his anger from a bad day.

He tried to take you with him and his brothers to the human world, but for you, it was impossible.

“I am the only heir to my parents’ kingdom, I am devoted to my people, I can’t abandon them”

You may have seen him shed a tear before he crossed the portal.

And that was the last time you see each other, for 10 long years.

Matthew

While walking through the palace inventing new toys, he saw a small black spot moving with the corner of his eye.

When he turned his head, that spot was gone.

Back to bussines then.

But before he could even think of a new design, he felt something brush his leg.

He looked down and a little black cat with big emerald eyes was stroking his leg with its head.

He have diessss for cutenes !!!

He’s stroking his head for a while when an imp of his father appeared inside the map.

“It’s amazing that The Demon Lord continues to let you live in his castle, you’re nothing more than an immature and childish demon”

Matthew was already used to this kind of comment and it was better to ignore them than to confront them.

But apparently a certain cat did not think the same.

What was once a small feline with black fur, was now a huge emerald snake two meters long.

The snake squeezed the damn imp until he goes violet and left him unconscious for a good while.

Matthew may have been scared a little.

BUT… low key sattisfac.

“What would you do without me, sweet cheeks?”

He was taken back by the previous transformation that didn’t realized that the snake was now a succubus of emerald eyes and tattoos.

He never knew that a succubus could look good with snake’s eyes.

Also, whe he knew you’re a QUEEN?!?!?!

Fuck yeah !! You’re even more hotter.

Loves to give you some of his toys, even the weird ones.

Absolutly LOVES when he cooks for you..oh, OH, no, delate that. HE REAAAALLLY LOVES when both of you go to the fucking kitchen and cook the fucking living shit for the both of us.

Every plate cames out more delicious than the previous one.

He give you a few recipes for you to try in your kingdom at the time of your departure.

Cooking is a way to remember the sweetness and love that Matthew managed to give you during the few days you were in his castle.

That habit becomes a nightmare when a servant entered the kitchen to warn you that the children from The Demon Lord went to the human world.

The cake you planned to send was scattered all over the floor.

Damien

He was being ridiculed by one of his “father’s” trusted servants when he met you.

“It’s only a matter of time before The Demon Lord throw you out of the castle like a malnourished dog.”

Do you know what is the worst? Not the heartbreaking comments, but Damien getting used to hearing them.

“It is a miracle that you are still alive despite the non-existent food that we are allowed to give you. You are nothing but a hindrance to everyone here, why don’t you do us a favor, including you, and leave before our lord … “

The servant was paralyzed and turned violet … apart from falling to the ground completely rigid.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt? Do you need something? ”

An angel sent from heaven.

Regain your composure Damien !!!!

His little knight to the rescue

Ok, I’m done.

Hidden readings in the library at the time he told you about his illiteracy.

Even once in a while you allow him to read your mind to continue learning to read and pronounce the letters.

Ancient and current Egyptian writing and reading classes.

Human language writing classes.

Talks in one of his brothers’ rooms.

“How can you become a snake?”

“Why doesn’t the color of your tattoos match the one of your eyes?”

“Do you spend a lot of energy transforming?”

“Can you avoid reading people’s minds?”

Oopss, delicate subject.

When you returned to your kingdom, you gave him a small mirror which had a twin in another part of the realm (more specifically your castle)

When he wanted, both of you could see each other from a distance and you could continue teaching him.

You broke the mirror the last time you saw Damien through it.

You saw him … in human clothes, in the human world, and he didn’t have the decency to warn you … or to take you with him.